Incomplete - Backstreet Boys - Lyrics

Empty spaces fill me up with holes,
Distant faces with no place left to go.
Without you, within me I can find no rest.
Where I'm going is anybody's guess.

I tried to go on like I never knew you.
I'm awake but my world is half asleep!
I've prayed for this heart to be unbroken,
But without you all I'm going to be is incomplete.

Voices tell me I should carry on.
But I am swimming in an ocean all alone...
Baby, my baby,
It's written on your face

(that) You still wonder if we made a big mistake!

I don't mean to drag it on,
But I can't seem to let you go.
I don't wanna make you face this world alone...

I've tried to go on like I never knew you.
I'm awake but my world is half asleep!
I've prayed for this heart to be unbroken,
But without you what I'm going to be is incomplete.

Yin and Yang

"Time is running out!"

--"I know."

"Do something about it!"

--"I am no one."

"Whatever you are, you are enough."

--"Not enough for me."

"You'll hardly get anyone to love you if you do not change!"

--"I am happy like this."

"No, you are not."

--"Maybe I am not!"

"Then do something about it."

--"I won't."

"Why?"

--"Because I think that is not necessary."

"Do you think you won't need anyone tomorrow?"

--"I would need someone maybe."

"Then do something about it."

--"But it's today!"

"If you don't do it today tomorrow won't come."

--"Maybe it will be different!"

"Do you want that to happen?"

--"I want nothing."

"That is your Ego speaking."

--"Maybe."

"Tomorrow I won't be here."

--"I know."

"I am telling this for you. Not for myself!"

--"I know."

"You know nothing."

--"Maybe."

"Don't answer like that. I am not trying to fight with you."

--"I know."

"Then what is your problem?"

--"My problem is that today I am no one."

"You are not no one to me."

--"I want to become someone to everyone!"

"I am not stopping you!"

--"I know."

"Then do something about it."

--"I hope you had told me this four years from now."

"It's the same thing!"

--"It's not."

"I can't stay like this for four years!"

--"Don't."

"Is that your Ego speaking?"

--"No. I said it because I love you."

"You don't love me."

--"I do."

"Then why are you being so foolish? You are destroying everything that we have built together."

--"I am not destroying!"

"Bullshit! You want me to keep it all in my heart like this for another four years?!"

--"I want nothing."

"I am sorry. I won't be able to hold."

--"Don't be sorry."

"It's not my fault. Trust me."

--"I trust you."

"What happens if you see someone else in my life tomorrow?"

--"I won't hurt you."

"But you will get hurt."

--"It doesn't matter. I love you. And I always will."

"Time is running out. At least for me. You won't understand!"

--"I understand."

"If you do, why the hell are you not doing anything about it?"

--"I am doing my best!"

"You could do much better than this!"

--"I can't."

"That's untrue."

--"No, it's not. I am still no one."

Maaya, me and this Warped Space-Time

It has been a weary journey since the day I first knocked at your door, Maaya. And I was elated and excited to stand at your doorstep now after all that search!

The first time I came here, I remember, I had thought that I would be ushered into a room full of roses -- red, yellow, white -- spreading their scent all across. I had thought I would find you sitting there, wearing a rich, red gown. I had thought you would be taking me in your arms. And that we would start our happy journey together.

But the door had opened, that day, only to let me find a note. A note that you had left behind for me. I couldn't find you! Nobody was there in that room. No flowers. No scents wafting in the midday air. A few blank walls, windows and a half-shut door that I had left behind.

The note had one word in it. I had read. And I had failed to find the meaning.

I remember standing there with a strange awkwardness of solitude, that of isolation. As though I sensed that you were guiding me towards a particular path and that it was gradually segregating me from my environment! I had seen the sunlight dripping into the room through the ventilators. The windows were closed. I thought of opening them but later I had realised that they were all jammed; they just wouldn't open!

I had dreamed seeing you in that room, in the red gown, bathing in the sunlight that would instead stream through the large, open windows -- filling the room up with a deep sense of satisfaction. But you were not there!

I had vowed that I would find you. And my journey had started. My path sought you, my destination sought you, even the vestigial past that I carried sought you. I sought you in happiness, I sought you in pain. I sought you in loss, I sought you in gain. And then, at last, I managed to track you down! And so I was there, standing at your doorstep now, after all that.

And this time when the door opened, I finally saw you after all these years. I found you smiling. I found you quiet. As though you wondered whether I deserved your hug still. As though you wanted to verify whether I have born enough desperation in your search.

You were looking at my eyes. They bore pain. Elation.

--"Got the note?"

"Yeah!", I have been carrying that paper all along, "It's one word. I failed to understand! I was looking for you. Halfway across the world!"

--"Come in..."

Maaya held my hand. She took me to a room. And I still couldn't find roses around me! Still no scents wafting in the air! And windows were still closed. Rather, I found the room having a bed. And a mirror. Only. There was light in the room. Dim. But enough to see ourselves.

Maaya let me sit on the bed. It had a white cloth on it covering it up from all the sides. With no extra pillows or blankets.

--"So, did you fail to understand?"

"Yes!", I looked at her.

And I found her all the more beautiful. The black of her hair, the black of her eyeballs were deep. Thick and mysterious. Her skin radiated a silver glow. She wore a white lace dress, softly yet tightly tied to her body and she radiated an aura, whose deeper levels, I wondered whether I'd ever be able to fathom!

Her tone was naive. Yet sharp. "You look terrible!", she was looking at my reflection on the mirror, "You have dust on your hair!"

"Yes", I said.

--"And your clothes are all shabby and torn!"

"Yes".

--"And after all that do you still fail to interpret that word?"

She turned her head. She was looking at me.

I found her undressing. She untied the knots and the gown fell on the floor.

She didn't touch me. Neither did she come any closer. But in that light, I was able to see her unhindered. All.

Her eyes smiled at me.

"I was always like this, wasn't I?"

I kept quiet. I could see her back, her spine running all the way up to her shoulders, the side curves of her bosom, the projection of her nipples, the smoothness of her abdomen, her waist-line, her thighs... and all the silver that she reflected across the room.

"Come over!", she waved at me, like a mother calling her child, as if to give to him a lesson that she expected him to learn once and for all.

She helped me shed my attire. Bit by bit. They dropped on the floor. All dirty with dust as they were.

"Hold me!", she said.

I put my hands around her waist and she drew close.

I felt my skin touching hers, my warmth feeling hers. My chest pressed against her softness. My organ sensing the joining of her legs.

It was not lust. And I don't know whether it was love. I couldn't concentrate on what it was. Maybe, an innocent surrender to a teacher.

--"Look at the mirror!"

I turned my head.

I saw myself!

I couldn't see her!

"Where are you?", I said surprisingly, "I don't believe this mirror. It has to be warped!"

"No!", Maaya smiled. "The space-time you are in is warped! That has made you warped too. This warping makes you see yourself all the times irrespective of my presence or absence, my pain or pleasure! Had you stood out, as I do, you would have seen this ailing world in the mirror. Along with all its warping."

I couldn't grasp her words completely, but I felt my heart did. Because, suddenly, I found my eyes moistening. I felt pain. And this time it was greater. For, earlier in my journey, this pain had told me that I would never find Maaya! This time it said, even if I found her, we'd never find happiness together if I didn't change myself in someway!

Maybe she sensed this. And maybe to lessen my pain, to let me forget all of that for a moment, she planted a soft kiss on my lips. "Look at me!", she said, "Pick up your dirty clothes and get dressed". "You still have a long way to go", she whispered.

Maaya stood there. Singular. And free of all burdens. And she was seeing me getting dressed.

"Pity you!", she giggled, "You are masked again. Bound again. Ready to bear stupid responsibilities, again! And I was wondering if you would ever be giving me a violet rose on the day you propose..."

She was smiling away. As though she has caught my inability red-handed and was playfully enjoying the magical spell that she was making me move up and down to.

I hung my head. Maybe in shame. Maybe in guilt. Maybe in the inadequacy of standing in front of her. But, maybe, more in surrender!

"I never know how to get you a violet rose, Maaya!", I murmured.

--"You would never GET one!", she exclaimed.

"Then?" I said foolishly.

She laughed aloud merrily and vanished into thin air. Her dress that was resting on the floor disappeared too; suddenly leaving me with a deep sense of emptiness. I sensed a void this time, in my heart, along with the painful longing that I've bore in it all my life! And I wondered whether I'd have to start my journey all over again!

And then, suddenly, as if by a magical spell, I found the room fill up with moonlight. And violet roses. Thousands. They flashed all across me. The moonlight was dripping off their petals; their scent as rich as wine, as smooth as velvet -- spinning a web of magical, sweet trance all around.

I saw them. I inhaled them. But I failed to touch! I wondered why.

And then when I set out on my journey once again that day, I looked at the note, that I had been carrying all the way, one more time. It still spelled out the same word:  "C R E A T E !"

This post has been Edited and Republished here. This was originally published on: July 27, 2007, in my blog: Mirage Mosaic.

Being Green

It's hard to say whether I am happy with my life... because happy seems to be an insignificant word. Someone once said: "happiness is not a goal of life, it's rather a by-product". And when it does become like that you really don't feel it: it instead seeps into you and begins to transform your life in a very subtle way. You stop thinking on your life. That is you stop thinking on yourself.

Life offers you a lot to learn. To learn from people around you. What is meant by being human? At the bottom everyone is selfish, isn't it? Yes. Everyone is. But being human means you should understand and accept that everyone around you is as selfish as you are. That is how we have built a community, a society. We have learned to sacrifice for the sake of others' selfishness. And to expect others to sacrifice for the sake of ours. It's like building this reserve inside you from where you get the view of a bystander. It's important to see yourself from outside: from people's point of view. This builds your social self.

But isn't this where we tend to stop? Or isn't this what we tend to wish for? Being respected by the society is fulfilling. But respect is a symmetrical attribute. When you pay it you receive it. And paying respect is the more difficult of the two.

Learning never stops. Even for an old man. My gradfather, who died last year at the age of ninety-seven, learned new things everyday: he kept saying it. He astonished me. To him life itself was so fulfilling! I find his life complete from many angles; he never wished for more. He was happy -- both when he lived and when he died. And only when you know that others are growing more by paying you respect than you are by receiving it -- you learn this supreme truth: that respect generates something which is hollow in itself: the Ego. Because it doesn't change who you are. If it does then remember it's only adding a hollow part to your true, pious self which you must get rid of. This reminds me of Spiderman-3 and how Spderman got rid of his black coat. It's not easy! But you must do it! Because it's false and it's a pity to incorporate a false part in your self, keep aside the misery of carrying it all your life.

Life is astonishing. Because you are astonishing and all the souls around you are. The more you shed off your Ego the more you discover yourself: that is you do not remain all that what society calls you, that is you do not stop at being that identity. Once you conquer your identity you can see through many things in life: even yourself. You see that you are no one. You see that you are a child -- still learning. It makes you independent of anyone and anything in life. It makes you fearless. It makes you alone and you realize that everyone in this world is alone, and they always were -- right from the beginning. But you do not feel lonely! Because of that reserve of selfishness inside you that you had built where everyone deposits their own share including yourself! Let this reserve be in you because it will eventually make you understand how people are and why they can't be like anything else!

Humility is neither a goal nor a by-product. It's a necessity like food, shelter and clothing. If you have it you stay alive: that is you keep growing in life. Else we were all dead right from the beginning!

Are you Black or White?

Here's some suggestion to the guy who is making his debut in the State Zone. I can give you tips on how to start in the National and the International Matches some other day!   :P

1. Do substantial net-practice before you go to field. I mean on and off net: i.e. both practicals and homework. That is where you get to learn. Know your strengths.Give importance to hands. Make friends with your willow.

2. Talk to someone who knows the manager of the team. Else it's difficult to get in. There are people more skilled and richer than you standing in the line. How can you find that 'someone'? Keep your eyes open. How can you convince this person to tell the manager of you? Take him/ her to a beer-party and then climb up to gin. If it's a 'she' vodka would be fine.

Important:  Some people wouldn't listen to this and would like to try out on their own -- almost reducing to showing their skills near fields where live matches are going on for attracting attention. This can be dangerous. Do not let the police know that you are doing something illegal. Generally team managers will be more concerned about this than you.

3. The manager will give you a date and time to play. Don't tell him/ her that this is your debut. Just a suggestion. Venue is very important. Let the manager choose. You can pay for it later.

4. If you see lots of people in between and feel unsure and unsafe -- hold on to it. You are on track! Genuine team managers never reveal identity. 

5. Get only one mobile phone in your pocket and some money and nothing else. Security can rob the things from you and may never give them back! Don't pay more than 3k. Given that you are a common man, which most of us are, the return would suit you just fine. More if you are making your debut. Also don't make it a deal if the manager starts auctioning below 5k. It can just be unsafe with broken rules! You can reduce 5k down to 3k with bargaining if you are persistant. If you don't have experience try your hand first at the annual sari sale (go with your mom and watch closely how she does it).

6. Important if you are a debutant:  Try not to have heavy food before start of match. And never have alcohol.

7. Be patient. They are never on time. More if the traffic police is nearby. Keep your eyes open and keep communicating through phone. Don't be nervous if the manager doesn't take your call a couple of times. And most importantly, don't run away.     

8. After your team member(s) arrive(s) follow instructions on spot. Don't play hero. These are all safety instructions on how to avoid women, ogling eyes of people and police on your way. Once you are safely inside the field you can play hero.

9. Get rid of the money then and there -- whenever they first ask for it: you must trust. Make sure the manager is on the line while making the payment. So you have just your mobile phone and some odd 200 bucks to eat something and return home after the match is over.

10. If the team member(s) ask(s) for your mobile to make a call -- give it! Your number is just being registered to a friend's cell -- who'll allow more economical offers next time if the team likes you. Don't delete the number and save it as 'XXX'. Delete it later if you want and stop taking calls.  

11. Get spurious people out off the field as soon as possible. Lock the entrance.

12. Important:  Make sure you have got plenty of umbrellas. You must be clean even if the environment wants to contaminate you: both literally and figuratively. Your team member(s) will get umbrellas most of the time. But please confirm twice before you start. Unwanted rain can well be a spoilsport.

13. Don't talk much. Debutante are often nervous and end up chattering. Remember that time is running out. However, please start with a "hi". Then you are free to go ahead.

14. Both of you can avoid the toss if you have mutual understanding regarding who'll bowl and who'll bat. Try not to sit idle when you are being invited to start the match. It'll start on a bitter note then.

15. Understand the brain of your opponent. Remember you have already paid and so it's better to start respecting. Be generous with praise. Everyone feels good when they get appreciated for what they are and for what skills they have. Have sportsman spirit!

16. Important:  Remember it's a limited form of the game where you must abide by certain rules: no matter how involved you have already become. Use Only Your: Eyes, Hands, and Willow. Nothing Else. Hips and Feet may be used for further movement and locomotion purpose.

17. Follow the rules. Else: your stock earns a bad reputation in the market.

18. Important if you are a debutant:  Forget about the time limit set by your manager. Once you have paid the money, a new time limit is set by your opponent. You'll get a chance to bat at most thrice. For 3k, that's fare! Respect the decision when you have been declared out: you yourself know it! Don't fake. Go back to the pavilion like a good boy, dress up and come back and take stance again. However, if you don't follow the rules and piss your opponent off, the match might well be declared abandoned and it'll be abandoned well before time!

19. Upper cuts are allowed. Good hand-eye coordination can make things damn interesting. Make proper use of your fingers when taking a good grip. You can score 35% of your marks in the first few power-plays itself! Please cut your nails before you go. Tampering is not allowed!

20. Lower cuts can be interesting too: but it's better to be cautious. Forget your net-practice. It's only hands and eyes that you use here. Be very very careful. Only this part can make your stay in the pitch longer than one hour. Be artistic. In 3k you'll mostly have opponents who come to the field after proper bathing and shaving. So, don't worry! Watch out for the blind spot! Yorkers there can be devastating and passionate.

21. Sometimes let your opponent free to decide what to do next. You can't take all the decisions yourself! Learn to Trust (except for the rule-breaking). The experience will help you later in your domestic matches.

22. Finally you both have to come to terms with exactly when you are going to start the penalty strokes. Don't be disheartened if you see there's no goal-keeper and you are making goal easily once you are inside the penalty-box! It happens in this form of the game! Mostly, you'll get a wide goal-post. Accept, keep your comments to yourself and move on.

23. Important if you are a debutant:  There are several ways to score. You can have net practice with that too before you go. But no use if you are making your debut. Come back to the manual later. Follow the rules set by your opponent (as long as they comply with the rules mentioned above). Other striking poses require high skill and loads of practice! Proper knowledge on umbrellas can be used now. For a straight shot one umbrella is enough, while for a loft you may just need two. Don't ask me on the bi-cycle kick: I have limited knowledge on that! :P
Please don't make a fool of yourself. Be honest of what you are and what you are not. Else you'll face the consequences: and that may dampen your spirit.  

24. It'll wear you out fast. Don't be disheartened. Sport always comes with sweat and toil. Don't be sad if your opponent doesn't encourage you to play more. Quit the field when you are out the 3rd time. Be it after 1 hour or after 4 (obviously allowing for a few breaks in between)! Don't nag. You'll only be given a chance to bat more than 3 times if your opponent has enjoyed the game simultaneously alongside you: happens rarely. If you ever climb to this level and sustain there: and if you never feel the need to play domestic games of this professional level: you'll make a good player when you are playing back in your own yard. Most of common men, like us, choose that.

25.  Don't be elated if the opponent shakes hands after the match is over and says: "You were excellent, do you wanna take my personal number?" It means nothing but: "Gimme a call when you consider coming next -- I can arrange in less than 3k! I'll also get more myself if you are paying me directly and keeping our team manager out of this." Remember they are worried only about the money. In very rare cases: you'll find chits in your pocket after you have returned home with the personal number written on it. :P

26. Don't disrespect the venue after you have finished! Don't misbehave. Pay respect to the people who have been waiting outside the field. If you want you can also give them some tip. Say a "bye". And leave with a smile.

27. Important: While in the field, be very much prepared for sledging. It's a part and parcel of every game. If you are weak-hearted, don't go! Try not to sledge back. Common, man! You can just have a long, hard look and it can melt many a ice. In extreme cases, sledge back if you can't control your opponent's game in any way. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn't!

28. Have a cigarette while returning home (or even two or more than that: smoke your heart out: this will bring you back to the real, domestic world). Unlike most people say, don't have cold drinks: soft or hard (unless it's 40 degrees hot outside). Try something hot and nutritious. Like a bowl of Chicken Soup, sitting inside an AC restaurant. It'll start rejuvenating your resources. 

29. Walk. It'll give you time to think on how to present everything if someone asks about it at home.

Footnote:        I loved listening to bhajans and I still like bhajans. You can also visit a temple, after your match, if you like the calm environment there. This form of the game is just another thing on plate. It doesn't guarantee hell and wouldn't increase your sin. At least it's a lesser sin than blowing up a petrol pump, working under some odd bin-Laden. We are neither Devil nor God. Neither Black nor White. We are all gray because we are all human beings! 

The palette obviously has more colors to it other than just black, white or gray! But I've heard that they surface only when you are in love. It's a different feeling all together and I can talk about it some other day.  :)     

Link to Video on Youtube

Here's something that you may find interesting:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WB92dOQbZko

the song starts a bit late.. I have deliberately not chopped off the intro part while putting it on youtube.. since it shows many of my friends 'in action'... ;) :P ...the guy speaking for some brief period at the very beginning is Deep... three of my closest friends here in IISc after Raghav and Sanjeev....

hope you like it.. comments /criticism /etc are welcome...

To Do or Not To Do

It has been almost two years here in IISc, and I am yet to count the numerous good things that have happenned to me. Well, out of those, the two topmost things, without doubt, have been my reconnection with Physics since class 12 and me getting a chance to sing on stage once again after college. My days here in IISc have mainly been fraught with coming to the lab and visiting the music room from time to time.

I feel myself lucky to be a part of Rhythmica, the IISc Music Team. I have learned to sing the lower scales correctly, learned to play a few percussive-instruments, learned patience, teamwork, humility and, above all, smartness. However, I still have stage fear and out of the 3-4 stage performances I have given here in IISc, I like none! Guys like Sanjeev and Raghav keep on telling me that I need to improve my body-language on stage: it's not all about how you sound, but also about how you look! It's not about singing, it's about performing! Yes, yes. I know. I keep on harping these points to myself every time I go to stage. Last time I sang "Aao Na", I looked like a zombie -- standing like a statue in front of the mics: the only part of my body that was moving was my right foot (um... I was tapping my foot to keep the beat)! I saw the video. I dreamt a lot about posting it on Youtube the night before I sang the song, however it's needless to say that the dream crashed once the video got edited and arrived!

Imagine about asking a day off from lab to my advisor: "Sir, can I please take tomorrow off?" Even without asking 'why', he replies: "Sure!" I clarify: "It's because I have to attend to some extra-curricular committments!" (nice way to put it! :P) Advisor: "No problem, go ahead! (As long as I am happy with your work.. :P) you can even take 2 days off!" Once the conversation ends I ask myself: is it really that funny? I have enjoyed Physics more than anything else on campus ever since I came here and it's needless to say that I love labwork! However, sometimes, this Music Bug gets too hard to bear and it is then when I need a quick release! Hmm...

So I rehearse twice the last day and see that the song is coming out well! Good! Now to focus on my body! It just can't stand still this time in front of the mics! I decide to make some deliberate moves.. something explicitly to be decided, a priori, on topics such as: what do I do with my arms on stage? I must not keep them hanging! Shall I walk towards the guitarists and the drummer during the interludes? This concept is known as: 'Using the Stage' and many follow it. Most importantly, what should I do with my eyes? I mostly sing with closed eyes, but I have received open criticism about this... Directly looking at the audience and singing is tough for me (I don't know why... :| ...)! Suggestions? Most of my mates told me to do the simplest thing... feel the words as I sing.. to forget there is an audience scrutinizing (and hopefully criticizing) my every move... To sing it as though I am singing it for myself only... Hm.. Easier said than done, anyways, I decided I will hold the mic this time with both hands.. that takes care of my upper limbs; as far as the lower ones are concerned, I rejected the idea of roaming around on stage... I will rather stand still and sing (and jump a bit during the "high"s just to make sure it doesn't look monotonous), facing the feet of the front-row audience (that avoids any risk of eye-contact)... Done. Last wish: "I hope my advisor is not among the audience!"

The song came out well.. Raghav said it came out better than "Bulla Ki Jaana".. both song-wise and performance-wise.. I was so happy! Aha! :)

Next morning I come to the department. Two seniors approach me. "Hey, listen!" They were quite senior to me, having almost completed their PhD degrees! "What was the song you sang yesterday?" I mumbled the song name. "Why did you sing it that way? Hands on mics, shaking your head from time to time, ...as if you were a rockstar!??" Um.... Nothing to say! I kept mumb. "Listen kid, in future, try and avoid all these pranks on stage... you go there and sing gracefully and come back.. That's it.." So here was something I coudn't resist knowing more about. It's, after all, for the audience only I had decided to change myself! I explained to them the mental trauma that I underwent before getting on stage: "I didn't want them to call me a zombie again!" "Zombie or not-zombie, it doesn't matter!" the senior said, "What matters is you are from Physics Department! You must have a minimum dignity when you stand on stage... Pathetic!"

Hello! Now where does that leave me?  :| ...........................

To Be or Not To Be

"Do you know how to concentrate?" she asked me. I kept quiet. "I think you love to believe that you are concentrating!" "Is it my pride?" I asked her. "I don't know what it is. But I can tell you something!" she said, "One. You can do it. Much easily unlike others. Two. You don't do it." "Why do you think I dont? Or do you think I can?" I asked. "That is your problem!" she said, "While you do it you never think you can't. You are always overconfident. The consequence of which is you spoil it completely. You think you are concentrating. And you want others who watch you to believe just that. You take it casually. Later once you become sure you have fucked it up you come and ask for sympathy! I won't say it is because of your pride. Because that would be foolish. Pride happens after your first success and affects your second performance. You get affected each time. I am not also sure whether it is your overconfidence! That happens to those who overestimate their calibre. But you underperform! I think I know what could it be. You are casual! Just!" I didn't know what to say. After a long pause I managed to mumble "I am always alert! At least I think so." "Then you do it deliberately!" she said, "Don't frustrate me! I have said what I had to say. You know it well! You know what goes on inside you. I am poor at mathematics. So I fail to find any other reason behind it."

Our discussion ended like that. She left angrily. I could make out why she was angry. Because she couldn't convince me something that she wanted me to learn, know and remember and she couldn't be sure that I wouldn't end up doing the same thing in my next chance. She loved to see me perform. She believed in my ability.

At the back of my mind I knew what was wrong. I knew it precisely because I know myself. She was close when she said I did it deliberately. But it was not exactly that! I couldn't explain it to her. Because it can't be explained. First because no one would believe it. Secondly because it's outside the arena of logic. It can't be argued upon. The reason was I get divided into two different individuals each time during the performance. One of them tries to perform. Another one tries not to. Often the second one wins. This tug-of-war ends up dissipating much energy which also makes me weak!

I often wanted to tell her that I didn't love doing it. That was the reason. But I couldn't. She would be hurt if she knew that! She wanted me to deliver because she believed I had talent! However, owing to some very odd kind of a combination with which I had come, I always ended up having talent in something that I never loved to do.

Moments of Nothingness

Coming home is a great feeling! Specially when you have been out for a long time and haven’t met all those with whom you have grown up. Childhood is special. Although this realization comes once it ends! It’s desirable to loose oneself in the present when one is young. Time never leaves you alone to stand still and enjoy your moments forever.

I was thinking of writing something new as, finally, after a long gap of about a year, I have finally got some time for myself! Although funny and incomplete ideas keep coming I realize it’s better to leave them alone for the time being for aging, and hence, unfortunately, am left with no plot that can be put up as a story in a blog (barring one short story that I am going to put up in Symmetry shortly). The last year has been hectic. My dreams and ambition have taken me to a place where I was a complete misfit! I tried and tried and after all this time have made nominal progress, though, have managed to adapt to the place finally. For the whole of last year I had to forget all about myself, my moods and desires, and solely concentrate on work -- a lifestyle which was, in no way, familiar to me! Never before in my life have I worked this hard. And never before did I get so less results out. However, it is a refreshing break now that I am here. Although, I also carry the feeling of stopping suddenly. It appears as if the world has continued to speed past again leaving me immersed in my childhood dreams.

The time I spent here once now seems strange! I have always disliked my childhood. It was, from no angle, what I wanted to start my life with. But today, coming back, I don’t feel that desperate or frustrated anymore! I remember all sorts of things. Breaking window panes while playing cricket, cramming the nights before school exams, narrating my written pieces to my dad and grand-dad, smoking my first cigarrette… Within each of these memories I also carried the wounds of self-hatred. I wanted to run away. I wanted to be free. I knew I was not living a proper life and I prayed that my lifestyle, on which I otherwise had no control, wouldn’t affect what I wanted to become in future. I knew I wronged each day. And I was so sure that once I start my new life, those days of childhood would remain as the worst days of my life. Today I am free. And today I have come home. I realize why those days were and will be the most beautiful days of my life. I had somehow spent those days doing nothing! I don’t know if I should repent! Today, the very realization of the fact that I had once spent my time doing nothing gets me thinking. Is such a thing possible at all?

I lived a hundred lives. To my parents I was a decent student always trying to improve on his exam marks. They loved me. To my mates with whom I played cricket, I used to be an under-hand leg-spinner who could bat a bit. I often ended up opening the innings. To my uncle I was a chess player, often a card player who could also gamble... He loved to play bridge an 29 and I often partnered him. Many loved to hear me singing. And Satadal Sir believed I had a real chance to become a painter! Not to mention that I started writing stories at a very early age. (And god knows what I am doing now with Physics!) In short I was a jack-of-all-trades. I never made out what I would grow up as. In fact I liked every thing! Unlike many, I never had fights. Very few disagreements either. People in the neighborhood loved me. And I enjoyed it. Today, now that I have been restricted to one or two arenas in life – now that I have started to work – I feel to have died in many zones in which I once lived! I have always been unable to decide which remains more painful: these days of having a direction but missing out on so many other things, or those days of living so many lives simultaneously and lacking a proper direction.

Many things have changed back here. Some of my friends have gone distant. They have grown a separate identity just like me! My grand-dad is older and leaner. My father has become quieter. The uncle with whom I used to play cards has married and has concentrated more on his business. As soon as I came home, I saw a twinkle in each of their eyes. They were so happy to see me! It gave me satisfaction. It’s a pleasure to know that there remain some who go on loving you no matter wherever you remain. They have aged and I have grown up too, but the bonds that once bound us still remain – unmodified with the interference of time. And there are some things that haven’t changed at all! My room remains just the same! The same sky I get to see out of my window, the same raindrops wet my bed when it rains today. The posters of my favorite cricketers are still there on my wall. The terrace is just the same! The orange sunrise that could be seen from it remains just the same!

Am I the same person? My attitude and lifestyle have changed significantly. My reactions have become more controlled. My words – more formal. I have learned to become socially correct. And I feel like having a separate life beyond all this. The life back at Bangalore, that makes me me! I don’t feel to restart the journey that I have left incomplete here one year back. I feel like continuing the one that I have started last year! I don’t feel those moments of nothingness anymore. Somehow those restless hours of hollow dreaming seems to be childish and meaningless now. Since I have come here, I have watched over ten movies. To kill time…

I don’t know if my disinterest or inability to relive those lazy moments of nothingness makes a difference to me! And I am still to find out whether this ignorance makes me happy or sad!

The Death of Love

Dreams are man-made. So are longings and expectations. Human heart is odd. Because it never stops expecting. That is how it loves. That is why it wants love. Love is nothing but a bond. And all bonds are hypo critic. As deformable as the water surface. Neither the two become one. Nor they stay separate! Still bonds form. Quite painfully. And in a funny way. And when they form they take away a lot of energy so as to subdue the state of both to a configuration supporting lesser vitality and higher satisfaction. Why this happens is a mystery! Or may be it's not. Bonds form to make individuals extract satisfaction. Assurance.
Love ends with the realization that the expectation of that assurance was false. And it is then the mind can come out and the heart can rest.

Sensitivity, when surrendered, might get accepted leading to the formation of a bond. Or it might get rejected – increasing the longing in the process. Sometimes it comes back to the owner; unchanged in form – without the amplification through acceptance or scratches of rejection. And sometimes it doesn't come back!
It neither gets accepted, nor rejected. It goes unnoticed by most. Un-understood by many. And unfelt by some. The soul of it wanders about forever. Wafting all across the span of this universe. Unexploited; untouched.
It's like trying to form a bond but realizing that it would never be possible! There is no sadness! Just a blank space in the scrabble of letters within the book of love that is written by many.

Society is strange! Because it's as hypo critic as a bond itself is. It expects from others as much as it expects from itself. When others can see but not feel, and understand that they can see but not feel, what mostly results is sympathy, not love. It is here where it goes hypo critic. It never accepts sympathy. But it always has the thing to offer. Smart people don't offer sympathy. But do they love?

Life is short. And all goals are without any meaning. Rivers come back to their genesis – once they empty into the ocean – through rain, completing the full circle. What is to be enjoyed and learned from is the journey and not the destination! Do bonds stop or deviate a person from extracting lessons from this journey?

Love can't be forced. If a person has expectations in his heart he is bound to love. It is because extracting lessons from a bond itself is, at times, equally enjoyable as learning from a lone journey. It's shorter. And more effective. But at the end of everything what count are the lessons. Neither the journey, nor the bonds.
To kill one's sensitivity fully is inhuman and perhaps not morally possible. But if, with the desire of forming a bond, one lifts off the bar to his sensitivity so that, pushing out of the cage of the heart and escaping in this free world, it spreads across air and wafts about in all dimensions – without getting understood, felt or touched... what results, more often, is a bond with oneself! Lessons are then learned via the medium of meditation.

It's not about becoming a narcissist. It's all about becoming passive. When the river gets nourished by raindrops off its own water it becomes perennial and independent. Eternal. Infinity contains itself in a circle. In the sense that one can trace it over and over again without feeling the need to come out. All circles bear the Infinite regardless of their sizes. This marks that they are all equal and one.
Nirvana might result out of love. But it can also be attained through the death of love. Hypocrisy must be avoided at any cost. The Infinite doesn't thrive in a self that is vitiated off its own fragrance!

Singing You, Maaya

Often when I sit alone in the dark, I try and hum a song. Being blank in my mind and silent at heart, I find that the only option the starlit night leaves me with for expressing myself to myself. Crickets chirp and the night breeze whistles past my ear. And the song doesn’t come out! Tunes overlap and words get disarrayed. The more I concentrate the more lost I become! The amateur tunes emanate – sometimes from my ribs – and waft through the air… they waft away and away from me in all dimensions of space. As though they are carrying away parts of myself that will never be coming back!

Life and death – both – stimulate me. And the channel between the two, which I often get trapped in, excites me as well! I feel like being all lost among the twists of Space and the hidden pockets of Time! Identity is also relative. I happen to be so insignificant! This world is just but another planet in this entire reign of stars and my inability is so petty! The Universe is huge. And has voids so great in it that something once leaving you might never return – even if you run after it all your life. You go on chasing and it goes on running away. And one day when you die and stop running you see it still running away! That is how I always lose myself when I sing. My heart goes on pumping new rhythms everyday. The pulsating rhythms generate tunes of several frequencies. It never tires. Just like the songs that never tire running away!

It’s not that I don’t know how to smile and live! But I find myself quite unworthy of it. This is no sadism. Neither masochism. This is an attempt to see what is there to be seen: The Truth! This is no indifference. Neither is it repentance. Just acceptance. The night air becomes a thick blanket, wrapping me all up and absorbing gently what I have to offer: my songs! The sky, the air, the earth – whose damp scent could be got from a distance after a late night drizzle – gives me company. I don’t find them sympathizing! Nor empathizing. They just welcome my presence silently. Drops of silence whisper secrets, the codes that have made up this Matrix! The feeling is great! As if to be a part of the elite league that drives this Universe. I sing! And the stillborn tunes diffuse into the surroundings and reach the limits of the night sky – where stars reside, where fairies weave magic into stardust! Sometimes to the moon! And it appears they have carried me with them. I feel the sparkles! But then I suddenly realize it’s all a dream I am dreaming; and that, in reality, I am in my room, sitting by the side of the window, all lonely, crying… and trying to sing the song!

I feel You inside me and myself inside that You again. And the recurring equation tunnels fathoms in my heart, to stretch to infinity, as I try and look deeper into myself! I see ourselves getting smaller and smaller. Diminishing in intensity… perhaps to be reduced to a speck before we could get assimilated into Nature forever! Because we are always like this together, I don’t feel the tears I cry! The tunes surround me. Just as they become a part of me. And then, when they go away, it feels that I have become a part of them – still lingering at my present, mortal existence…

I have always wished to be a star! So that I can sing afresh. So that I can sing correctly! I want to be the song itself! So that I can proclaim the power to sing myself! And thus… to sing You, Maaya! I want to sing You, Maaya! That’s what I have always wanted to. And that’s what I have always done! At least in my dreams…

The Red of Her Roses

It was raining. And thick clouds surrounded the fields. Far away, the horizon could be seen – where the overhanging gray seemed to touch the bare, barren lands. There were no sounds. Neither a being was in sight. Was just that humid silence. Was just that cold breeze that kept blowing lightly from time to time trying to freshen things up temporarily before they damped away again to get assimilated into that black hollow through which no lights passed, from which no echo returned. The breeze carried the drizzle with it!

The only bright things in that silent solitude were being laid down upon the grave now. They were a bunch of roses. Fresh, giving off a pleasant scent that didn’t die down in the surrounding air in spite of the indifferent, still grayness of its vicinity, but instead, effortlessly diffused into the voids of the air and pores of mud around and filled the entire space with a spirit of rejuvenation; a never dying promise to bring dead back to life!

The gust of wind brought in the drizzle to moisten the man’s face. He wore a black hat that covered all of his forehead and part of his eyes. His coat, trousers – even his boots, that carried mud along wherever they went, were black! He bended down to put the roses over that grave and then stood up again.

The absence of much light and the drizzle that frequently wetted his face made it uncertain of whether he was crying. But he didn’t move. He stood there still and silent and watched the roses as they got bathed on mud. He was looking at the leaf that said the grave carried the body of a five-year-old girl, buried. She was supposed to have decomposed by now. Her fingers, eyes, lips were supposed to be lost in the wombs of Mother Earth, her hair was thought to be disseminated into the pores of ground, tangled up in the dead roots of those numerous plants that have tried to grow from the spot but couldn’t.

The man was sure that the girl, in spite of being lost in the fragments of earth, was still able to feel the roses that he carried to her grave every month. He stood there and watched the rain beat down the petals, mixing them with mud. His heart beat out sounds that he couldn’t hear himself. The ultra low frequencies penetrated the ground and woke up the girl who had been asleep for the past month.


The place never saw a sunny day. It always rained in that part of the world. There were a thousand graves around – spaced throughout the fields. None of them touched light. None of them got relieved of that silent, hovering melody resulting out of the eerie solitude. There were flowers and gifts scattered all around almost on every grave. And the sight stretched on to infinity in all directions. The incessant rain mostly washed the objects away. What remained was decomposed over time. Dead smelled the flowers and played with the gifts. Communication that is hindered is desired often in love – be it even between the living and the dead! Relationships that thrive on love are eternal! Nothing ends; nothing begins!

The man slowly turned round and started walking. He disappeared down the horizon to leave behind the roses… and the drizzle. The breeze carried the scent to distant places…


After she became aware of her father’s absence, she slowly oozed out of her grave – the pink frock still on her small, beautifully shaped body, the red ribbon still tied round her hair – happily smiling. The roses were so dear to her! She held them tight to her bosom and she smelled their fresh fragrance… She cried. And her tears became pearl and climbed up the lonely road to heaven through that still air, later to be brought down as rain. She cried because her heart yearned for something she couldn’t grasp, something beyond her reach. She cried because she knew that she would never know whether she would ever get free, whether she would be growing up and dying a second death one day, whether she would lose her evergreen beauty, of which she was quite jealous, that always seemed like a precious possession to her.

She spoke to the clouds, the breeze and the fields. She asked them if they were dead! They didn’t reply. And she asked the roses then… Their red appealed to her and she wanted to play! She wanted to run around the fields and fly kites and watch birds.
She felt lonely! And the whimsical Earth held on to Her obstinacy to not to change any of the Rules that made her run this world.

And then, before she went in the grave to rest quietly... closing her eyes, she cried again. She cried this time because she knew that one day the roses would stop coming to her grave as her father would be dying and taking a place close to her. While she cried silently, she went on wondering if anybody would remain alive then, on this planet, to bring her and her father a bunch of roses!