A Bit of the Real

  I rarely use Facebook now, but when I do it's because of the "Memories" feature that reminds me about what I posted a decade ago. And it serves as a good reminder of my past - all the hustle, the adventures of exploring uknown territories, and facing uncomfortable situations just to see if it is worth. But there's a point in time where you can feel that the ship is not going to be able to carry you anymore. It's a moment of reckoning because despite the uncertainty in life, we have a "home base" that is our familiar space, and it's now unable to carry us to the next adventure. If you have watched One Piece (anime, not the Netflix live action) you will understand what it feels like. Nevertheless, the adventure must go on, with a new ship. But the transition is difficult - you deserve better yet you won't admit. It's a slightly uncomfortable situation, but it prepares us for the long journey ahead. This is called mid-life crisis.

 Today is one of those days when I feel like shit.  I feel I have wasted my entire life.  I could have been better. I would have earned more.  I could have done a lot of things. But right now I am just helpless.  I don't want to be helpless. Probably, I need a mentor but no mentor will guide me. I am a heavy kite that can go out of control in strong winds and lesser winds won't work for me.  I need to work on something. Please tell me, do you have any idea?

 When a baby giraffe is born, the mother kicks it until it stands and starts walking.  A mother duck practically pushes a duckling into the water.  I am sure most animals resort to some sort of "cruelty" on their offspring. They want their babies to walk and even dash as they have a risk of survival.   However, humans have created a cozy community around their offspring, which induces protection until the child is fully developed.  A human child takes 12-18 months to just walk. Doing regular human things will take many years.  Following my post, we subjected our child to two more ordeals where his patience was tested. But now he can digest failure. Failure doesn't break him but pushes him to try harder next time.  We failed this time, but less severely than before.  Next time, we will win. 

 Following up on yesterday's post, I detected that my child falls in the "highly sensitive" category.  I will share more details of what it means to me and how I will tackle it. But more importantly. it feels that I have passed it on to him.  This could be a lifelong issue with my life partner and me. She accuses me of being responsible.  I understand it can be my fault. But did I have a choice? Or did I inherit from my parents (probably my mother?).  Anyway, that's not the root point of the discussion. Whatever it is, I need to face it and figure out a solution. 

 I have failed multiple times.  In fact, I have lost count of it.  But today, my child failed. And he cried.  Actually, he cried a lot. I wanted to comfort him and explain him why losing is not a big deal. But he is too young to understand it. He does not know that failure is only going to make him tougher.  I am sure, he will learn in the coming days and years.  But today he didn't know that, and he felt extremely sad.  If it was a teenager or even a ten year old, my motivational pep talk could have worked.  But it didn't work today. He is merely 5 (and will turn 6 soon!) When he is sick, I wish the illness transfers to me instead so that he doesn't have to bear the pain.  Today I wanted to cry on his behalf so that he doesn't.  I don't want him to cry. May be I want him to lose, and fail occassionaly. Like a gym trainer hurts your muscles systematically only to make them stronger.  But today it was too much. I have been the gym tr...

Now, I have a challenge. I wouldn't call it tough. It is time-bound. Creating utopia is a both man's and woman's dream. The only difference is, the man starts thinking about the implying imperfections despite the fact that he, too is willing to give in his best for the perfect world. The woman, on the other hand, lives in the present tense and is constantly irritated by the alleged foresight of man. Whether this may or may not lead to a disruption, that only time can tell. But for man, there is nothing important than a woman who understands his dream and pushes him to go further and further. Such are relationships, and to give them a worldly name would be unjust. It's weird. The man, in constant effort of finishing the challenge, tries hard and hard and hard. Soon, the fear of failure creeps in. But what is he afraid of? Is he afraid of failure? Why would he be? Because he hurt his ego? Or because he lost? The reason of the fear cannot be known until the outcome of the ...

5th August -> 21st December.Four and a Half months since I wrote my last post. People (including me) consider that people blog when they feel lonely, and particularly bloggers are humans that feel an urge to express but can't freely do it in the real world. Anyway, there's always a reason for everything in life. It's just the curiosity of knowing the reason that kills an individual. If I get going to find out reasons to all things that I worry about, I'll be worried forever. The reason why I am writing today's post is because I need to express myself and I don't know whom to tell. I want to say a lot of things but I have promises to keep, which keeps my lips sealed. Awkward, isn't it? I'm writing about my inability to write certain things. But no man is handicap enough to be unable to express: It's just self control. What is life without competition? And competition especially when you start feeling you're the only king of your dream world! Wh...

Hey! Did you ever know? It's just a pin-prick, and it feels just like you go to the doctor to kick your sickness away. Remember the long syringe and the needle tip lubricated by the inside fluids? It didn't take more than seconds to inject all the semi-transparent liquid into your veins. Aaaaah! you cried... But the next day you were thankful. Because, the big pain was gone... Such is life... if you feel sad for a moment, just resist...

“Life’s disappointments are harder to take when you don’t know any swear words.” It's so simple, shaking off the pressure - Just take the bottle, fill the glass, drink it, and then spit it away swearing for the last person you thought of before putting the glass to the mouth... [;)] Try this, you'd feel better... *[i]conditions apply[/i] *[i]Bottle must not contain alcoholic drink.[/i]

I saw this movie, Lakshya today. My friend recommended this film to me way back in 2005. I didn’t pay much heed. But I liked the songs, used to listen to them when I was low. However, following my urge to watch it, I finished the act today. It took 24 years for him to realise. Well, I am 24. And I just realised that same thing, and then the film showed me that what I realised was is correct. I don’t know if it is the film’s effect but I feel I am in a similar situation: I have a faint idea of my aim, I have made some decisions, and (don’t know how to write this, let’s put it straight…) the girl I like has told that she’s got no time to talk to me anymore. It’s high time that I act. People fall in love at all wrong times when they can not afford the comfort and love that their soul mates deserve. And then there’s a break up. I don’t know if I’d get to meet her after this, but I am working on a project that will take me to a great height. I just want to reach that place...

Calvin:     I don’t understand it, Hobbes. The kids teased me when I wouldn’t play baseball. Then they yelled at me when I did play. Then the teacher called me a “quitter” when I stopped playing. Unless you’re a star you can’t please anyone. Hobbes:   In that case, why not just please yourself? Calvin:     Because Mom won’t let me move to Madagascar. I don’t like what we are doing sometimes because I am forced to do so without a logical satisfaction. I pledge, I’ll never do this kinda’ stuff again!

Life seems like being caught in a Do While loop. The escape condition is not getting satisfied. Don’t know how many iterations left yet. Good if I had kept a “count++” in the “do” block. I return to this blog only when I don’t have any place to express my self. This may seem selfish. Who isn’t selfish, anyway? What has happened to the creative writer? He has lost his skills. Nah, he has just lost his concentration. He did what his mind told him to do. He lost control over his mind and let his body freely obey it. But now it’s over. From tonight, this geek is on a special diet: The diet for the brain. Just a bit of self control. No more throwing away actions. No more doing-as-I-like. Just me. Me, me and me. And me, too! Let the loop iterate. Let the world see a butterfly out of the pupae. Let there be light.

It was a winter night. There was no moon in the sky, but a broken streetlight was oscillating in the brisk wind. I looked around. Everyone in the houses around was asleep. Somewhere, I could hear the T.V. blaring a late-night show. The spectacled watchman Babu was trying to keep awake, striking his bamboo stick on the concrete floor, counting moments until sunrise, lest his bon-fire blows away. The wind was slow but it was cold, and my teeth started chattering. Whine looked at me, and then at Bisha who snuggled beside Bowwo. He then said, “ Wow… what a peaceful sleep these guys are having… and look at us… staying awake all night just because some jackass warned us about the Outsiders…” “Whine, they watched the area all day… now we are replacing them in the night”, I replied. “Why only we have got to do the tough stuff every time? I can’t sleep in the daytime in all these noises, and in the night I have to freakin’ nightwatch! This is unfair… I need a change… And look ...

Today is Monday. I just woke up with a strong desire of jogging. MY regular jogging track is 6 km straight and it takes 35-40 minutes. I'd leave in 10 minutes after this post gets published. I woke up from my bedding to find that I hadn't used the blanket. Frankly, I don't know how I slept, or rather who made me sleep.Usually I remove my specs and keep them beside my laptop after scheduling the downloads. My specs were at the usual place. But no downloads, yet the laptop was ON all night. May be someone put me to sleep, finding me sleeping in front of the laptop screen. I hope they haven't seen my chat history :P

November 15th -> January 14th : My duration of absence from the blogosphere. I bet I still love it. Many sunshines and showers have changed the way I look, touch, talk and walk. I don't recognise myself. Fighting-off expectations and working relentlessly to stop all the useless thoughts, I have stopped working with a plan. Now I never plan, I just make a list of things to be be done and execute them asynchronously irrespective of the order. Try it. It is fun. Today I am feeling BLANK. BLANK means completely blank. All I remember is just a phone call. There was nothing extraordinary in the call, no. No Love You, no Miss You, nah... nothing. Just plain words. Still I remember it and it only. All night while multiple dreams came, it ran like a backgroundworker pestering me. There's something about the conversation that gives me the creeps. Today's Sunday, no office, and I have decided to be hyper-active lest I fall in such a trap. Good day.

Mark Twain said, "I can live without food for [n] days, but I can't live a single day without praise." He lost lost wife and three daughters in a very short term. He was then alone. In loneliness, he wrote the darkest of his works, "The Mysterious Stranger" (unfinished). One of the quotes from it is: " In a little while you will be alone in shoreless space, to wander its limitless solitudes without friend or comrade forever--for you will remain a thought, the only existent thought, and by your nature inextinguishable, indestructible. But I, your poor servant, have revealed you to yourself and set you free. Dream other dreams, and better!...You perceive, now, that these things are all impossible except in a dream. You perceive that they are pure and puerile insanities, the silly creations of an imagination that is not conscious of its freaks - in a word, that they are a dream, and you the maker of it. The dream-marks are all present; you should have recogniz...

I remember the first time I blogged. I thought I was doing it for fame. I was hoping to be a good writer, and wanted to be the most famous blogger in the blogosphere, just as every computer student wants to become Bill Gates, or Richard Stallman, or Steve Jobs, or Larry Page. I started with my poems. A few months later, I didn't like them. I started a story then. The name was: What a name?!!?. I wrote 6-7 posts and got impressive comments. Somehow, I failed to continue it. I forgot all about blogging. Then suddenly, India Student Partner program started an "Every MSP must have a blog" scheme, and I felt I needed a rather tech blog. So I shifted to www.nicenotes.spaces.live.com. As usual, I ran out of either ideas or time to blog each night. Today while writing this, I asked myself a question: Why do I blog? For fame? So that some cool (hot, actually) girl discovers my hidden talent and becomes a fan for real? So that I can boast about my creativity? The answer is: NO. I b...

Sunrise. Birds chirp. Trees exhale oxygen. Suddenly I hear a scream. I woman was pointing at the ground. "A snake! A snake!", she frantically cried. It wasn't a snake. Snakes have removable foreskin. This creature was way too slimy and slippery to be a snake. I know what it was. It was an earthworm; disoriented earthworm. It dragged itself on the dry floor, leaving behind marks of its wet body. Someone said, "Kill it!". I didn't. I just waited until it coiled itself, and inserted a piece of paper beneath it. It was trying to escape off from the other side. A chill passed by my heart. I held the paper with shaky hands, and carried it away with the worm on it. I threw it in the bushes nearby and bid him good day. "It will come again!", my mother said. "Not on the dry land, mom, not again... ", I smirked. Things digging themselves out of deep-within can't panic me.

The red sun was smiling. So was the silver moon. The stars winked. The rain drops fell from clouds. A rainbow passed from within. The tree swaying in the wind. "Kaushal!!" came a voice... The paper sheet was perfectly placed under the bed. The pencil, rubber, and the colour sticks went back to their residence. The light was OFF. KC could hear the TV blaring. He was trying to listen to footsteps. It was mom; she was coming to his room. He pulled over the blanket, though it wasn't winter and he wasn't ill. "Mom..." he groaned.."Turn off the lights!". She just wanted to have a look at his room. "You weren't sleeping?" "I was arranging my bag for tomorrow..." "Tomorrow is your first day..." It is tough to make moms leave our rooms. Specially at times when you want to be alone. Now he couldn't turn ON the lights: She'd be back. He thought he'd continue his drawing later. He shut his eyes.But he didn't cl...

Monday. The most despised day. Just because it follows Sunday, which is, at almost every place, a holiday. We all love holidays, and the relaxation they give. Kusum watched them depart, thinking that she would be alone all day, with no one to talk to, in the three storey bungalow. It was going to be tough for her, because it was the first Monday after the vacation. With a great effort she had been a bit closer to Disha, the girl who always was lost in the thoughts of her old mom. A tear crept out and slid down her cheeks to the chin, falling on the doormat. Disha held her papa's hand while he opened the car door for her. In seconds, they zoomed through the street. In minutes, he'd drop her by school, Kusum thought. She wanted to go with them. She wanted to see her entering the school with the new school uniform. Her class, her friends, and teachers were not going to be here: It was a new school. She would be alone. Will they talk to her? Will she talk to them? I hope she do...