Again and again and again and again??

Someone recently told me not to look for motivation elsewhere, it has to reign within oneself. One has to be "self motivated" i heard. That let a whole rummage of thoughts racing through my head. Let's think about it. About all things that motivate me to wake up every morning and say to myself "What a beautiful day!!"

I hate myself for waking up past ten everyday. And I hate my work that forces me to such treason, all the more. I hate my mom for never having a problem with her only first kid going wanton in her ways. I hate missing the smell of fresh coffee every morning, with the sound of the crispy newspaper running through dad's hands. I hate to not smell the fresh morning air, free from all obscenities of the day.

Before I proceed any further, let me clarify. If you are flinching everytime you read the word 'hate' here and wonder why I am using such a strong word, trust me. When I say i hate it, I mean I HATE it.

So like I was saying. I hate what I have made of myself.I want to have a never ending collection of music with me. Am not biased and I need a range from ancient hindi and tamil movies to the latest in alternative rock, and make sure I have everything that happened in between. I want artificial intelligence to read my mood at any point in time and play me the most appropriate. I hate myself for the meagre amount of music I listen to. I hate myself for listening to the same songs every time I do listen to them.

I hate myself for the minimal amount of time I spend with my guitar these days. I look at Switch and hate myself all the more.

I want to read. Read everything I can get my hands on. Like I said, I have never been choosy. I wanna read everything that was ever available and still remain thirsty for more. I hate myself for never finding enough time to pick something up from a local library; for never finding support enough to pick up everything I want to from the local bookstore. I will one day, I know, but I hate myself today for the inadequacy.

I want to get a little drum kit for myself and learn to play it all on my own. Want to see myself sit there and play my heart out everytime I wanna express my frustration on this big bad world. I hate myself for not having the guts to do that. What happened to all the drive I used to have??

I want to own those little Bose speakers I saw in the showroom. Want to have a sound room of my own, with a complete A-V experience set up, topped up with a few bean bags thrown around. Inadequacy beats me here as well, for I know it wont fit my pants right now. All for the day I wait for.

I want to travel, far and wide, deep into that untreaded land. I want to tour with a great bunch of friends and I want to backpack all alone. I want a mind that decides between the crave for solitude and the want for a group that understands when I want my space. I want a intellect that manages the desire to explore abroad and the need to be patriotic in my ideas. I want to make sure that every single holiday is utilised in my meeting my real self and I hate every saturday that I spend at home.

I want stability, sincerity, honesty and dependability in things in contact with me. I want people around me to stand up and raise their voice against bureaucracy. I hate every single person who shuts up just to be the nice one and walk over me.

So tell me. None of these things I want seem to be available for takes in the near vicinity. And they talk to me about Self motivation?? To better it what do I have instead? A tag that reads The revolt, a look of scorn on all faces the minute I talk and smirk and a smile of triumph on all those who chose to change their ways to go ahead. What do I do? I eat the same food every day, I see the same people come rain and storm, I go to the same places everyday, I catch the same bus to office everyday, I sit and warm the same chair everyday, I numb my brain to the same extent everyday, I give myself the same amount of headache everyday and I go back home with the same amount of frustration everyday.

What's new? That is my constant question. In every conversation I make, in every thought I think and in every think I care to spend a moment on. When we were in school, a new period every hour was a change. In college, a new treat every week was a welcome change.
And now?? Predictability is killing me. The same sun rising over and over again is killing me. The same set of code I look at and relook at is torturing me. The same bunch of out-of-wavelength people I meet everyday are making me run.

What am I expecting?? I dont know. Something that is not already there. Something that I would least expect. A sudden call from somewhere that transports me to a totally different world..?? A teleporter that takes me back in time?? Or into the future maybe..?? A bomb blast in the neighbourhood, where I was there helping those people live a life, maybe?? A pair of glasses to change the same face I stare into every morning..?? A fracture in my leg that makes sure I limp to office for the next four months, for a change??

Dont make those weird faces and get the impression that I am a loser of all sorts...But I am serious...Mundaneness is Killing me..

8Two

i think ive fallen down from grace..

something's really wrong with me...

my head spins round at a steady pace...

my mind will not get free...

u tell me i am not the one...

u tell me i have done no good...

all that you say can be done..

my mind can it be understood...

i think ive fallen down from grace..

Smudged the picture of me i painted...

i stand with no longer a face...

all life and passion is tainted...

PS: March end - Depression sets in. Great thanks to a friend from workplace for coming up with the title. Kill Me!

Creativity, at its Worst!

Snoopy colleague reaches his limits of gossip monging and curiousity by peeping over to his neighbour's privates, only to check out "If it was really that big?". And you expect me to fall down on my stomach and laugh when the whole ad is boiled down to increased storage space on Rediff mail?

What happened to creativity in ads? How can there be ads like these made when we have classics like Prasoon Joshi's for Happydent, or the new Reclaim Your Life mantra from Safari Dicor??

Wait a minute? Was I being very finicky?? Conservative, is it, for not being able to enjoy such a dirty joke!! I can stand Kamasutra for years now, but Mail size and the Man's privates!! Give me a reason to corelate here, please.!

Cricket - o - phobia !

Scene off a canteen table. The otherwise choosy men pick up anything from the wide option of "delicacies" available and run, squabble to make sure they get a vantage position. The unlucky few curse their worst signs for having to go through the misery of sitting with their backs to the television.The ones with a good rapport with the girls, coax and please them to exchange seats. Some desperate souls compromise on the pleasures of tv viewing and go down to live commentaries on the radio.

But come Cricket world cup season and it is more of a pain for a girl, like me, to accompany the male counterparts to grab a meal. "Hey heard about this new scheme that they have come up for the pay cheque?", meets deaf ears, selectively deaf infact. Or it would be returned with a "Oh it was plum man..!", which totally bounces off the conversation. You are definitely received with necks craning over their shoulders to make sure not one ball is missed. And when there is no live telecast, damn those matches in the carribean, there are those innumerable replays, thanks to the countless channels that have resolved to mint money in the month to come.

Even if those dedicated channels do let them down, they always have their very own in-house experts, recounting tales from world cups they viewed as kids, moving on to the teenager days. How cricket was more a sport then than the game now. And then the usual argument, be it for the regional favorites or the bowler-all rounder issues, they just keep popping up always.

And respite is nowhere near in sight. Getting yourself served a meal quick is an option out on the open, for the canteen guys blink not an extra minute incase they miss out on that key stroke that would change the direction of the game. And such is their interest in the game, that any hopes of changing to anything else is minimal and bleak.

As we fight to move over to something more promising, I am down on my knees and ready to compromise. I am ready to put myself through an hour of Himesh Reshammaiyya's nasal drawl. I am keen on watching Sanskar and find out the positives of turning into sainthood. I am considering diksha as an option in life infact. I am ready to learn all the new asans that Ramdev baba has come up with for a severe neck disorder. But please, not another ball of the match.

A desperate plea. When are we getting the soccer matches back and why in the whole, bad hell does the Formula 1 season start this late?

Four friends and a flight to catch

Four friends sat on the kerb, oblivious to the pounding traffic that the internation airport was accustomed to. They were all professionals in the true sense. Some were back from work, their formals and name tags intact. One was out on an assignment which had given him the opportunity to meet the rest.

They had been different people, but had bonded. Some had made each other's life difficult in college. Some had belonged to opposing groups when ego ran high and friends were lost. Others had been the lone light for the other during difficult times. Most of them hadn't made contact in the two years that had flown by after college. The pain didn't show now.

They had had their differences; some still had them. A few drank tea while the others savoured their soups. Yet they were there together, reliving a past they had lived through soulfully. The stress that work life brought along showed on some. Others were making a successful effort at hiding it quiet. The few that were open about it shared the frustration and it found empathy from others around.

For they had been together in times when life was carefree. College life brings with it a phase of total freedom and ownership. You knew that anything that happened to you tomorrow was because of what you did today. Yet, you made sure you lived today to the fullest. There had been no politically correct statements then; If I dint like you I told you just that. Oblivious to its holding on anything coming forward.

We had all been ready for a battle had there been one. But we hadn't prepared for the one that was storming in us right now. The dreams, that had left behind sleepless nights, were safe and locked up, while we chased futile targets. We sat there as friends while a life of corporate culture lay behind us. We contemplate on what we had made of ourselves. It was all what had put unto ourselves. True!

All of us, in our own ways, looked at a distant nothing, staring at the us that we had been. We had grown up after all. When the time arrived, we silently parted ways, promising to have more such opportunities to reunite. It felt like a chance to live the real us. The us that was threatened to oblivion by the us we were all hoping to be.