Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Life and Hope
This is a video montage made with the help of one true media with pictures courtesy postsecret and music courtesy The Cat Empire.The song playing in the background is 'Misere' by the Cat Empire and is one of my favourite songs ever.
Hope you like this.
Merry Christmas everyone.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
My First Love
No one forgets their first love.The indescribable rush that it brings, always holds a special place in our hearts.You have loads memories of the time you spent together.You thought you'd spend the rest of your lives together. First love, so naive, so immature, so unsophisticated, yet ever so charming!. The novelty, like the first drops of dew on an untouched leaf, of the feeling makes it special and unforgettable.
I first fell in love a few years ago, four to be precise. I was sixteen and just out of school. It was something like that Craig Douglas song 'only sixteen'
I was only sixteen, only sixteen
I loved her so
But I was too young to fall in love
And she was too old, I know
So who was this mystery woman, and why was this love frowned upon by many?
Let us begin by giving her a title. In no way Miss, because she had been "around for a while". Not Mrs, because that brings to mind notions of responsibility at home.That is something definitely not for her. And Ms always brings to my mind desirous, power-hungry females. No, we have to travel abroad for her title.My apologies to all respectably-married Francophones out there, but for the rest of us, this title is synonymous with Gallic naughtiness - Madame. But Madame who?
A friend of mine in Bombay first introduced me to Madame Nicotine. As I said, she "put out a lot". And for a sixteen-year-old in search of excitement and experience, she seemed to be the answer to my adolescent prayers. I remember the first time as though it were only yesterday. It took place in a dark and secluded corner, of course. But I will never forget the excitement as she first brushed my lips and her taste as she entered my mouth.
And then afterwards i experienced the exhilaration, the guilt and the nausea. I decided there and then, that this was a dangerous lady, once was enough, no more.
And so it stayed that way for a few months. Then we met again, and I succumbed again. "But no problem", I thought to myself, "I can take her and leave her". So I left her. But a feew weeks later, I took her once more. And so it went on, and each time she grew on me just a little bit more. Less nausea, more excitement, more satisfaction.
Until the day came that I realized we were inseparable. We were meant for each other, and I was her willing slave. I began to spend more and more on her, because she didn't come cheap. My parents warned me to stay away from her. They said she was bad for me. But I didn't care. I would flaunt our relationship in public, deliberately parading her around. As an exchange student, I would often spend money on her instead of food, because when I was with her, I no longer felt hungry. She became a part of my every waking moment.
When I started college, I started spending more and more on her. We couldn't get enough of each other. We would consummate our relationship twenty times a day. Sometimes it would be eager and greedy. I would snatch gratification from her selfishly. Other times it would be gentle, relaxed and we would enjoy ourselves in the quiet company of each other. Often, I would take her for granted, my hand reaching out for her unconsciously, taking her while my mind was on other things. But as long as I kept spoiling her with my money, she didn't mind at all.
Over the years we grew closer and closer to each other. We were inseparable. Not a day would pass without us meeting. I felt guilty, of course. Not only was she was taking my money, which should have gone into other things, but she was also harming my health. At first I paid no heed to the second aspect. But slowly i realized that I was not as fit as i wanted to be and Madame Nicotine was to blame.
Many times I tried to give her up. I told her so. She just laughed in my face. She knew my weaknesses too well. And of course I couldn't live without her. Before long, I would come crawling back. She always took me back, for sure, but not without making me feel weak and humiliated. She always knew how to humiliate me. How many times, discovering late at night that she was no longer there, did I wander the streets searching for a place where I might find her? Or, being somewhere where she was not allowed, how often did she entice me outside, for a quick and sordid liason in the pouring rain or in the snow.
Finally I decided "Enough is enough". She was bad for my health, bad for my pocket, her scent always covered me and revealed our shameful relationship to the world . I announced to her that we were finished. How did she react?
Exactly like Cruella de Ville on steroids. "You'll never leave me", she spat out in rage, "you are weak and puny and have no will power at all. You have now idea how much I'll make you suffer!"
She was right. Those first few weeks were a living hell. Often I would wake up in the middle of the night sweating, wanting to go back to her. When I saw her with someone else, my insides burned with rage.I could not stop thinking about her. For the first few days,she was all that was on my mind every waking second.
I don't know what stopped me going back to her. In desperation I flung myself into the arms of Miss Chewing Gum. She was a sweet thing, sure enough, and for a few brief moments she could take my mind off Madame Nicotine, but she had neither the personality nor the depth nor the sheer naughtiness of my former lover to make it a lasting relationship. And I think she always knew that. She knew that she was my rebound and that when she had served my selfish needs, I would throw her away into a trash can. Sometimes people are like that. But she fulfilled her purpose, and finally I was free.
That was a while ago. Every now and then I see her again, in the distance, in a cafe or bar, and she gives me a look of sad reproach. For a very brief moment, I remember our good times together, that first time she brushed my lips, those years we spent together through thick and thin, those years she was always by my side.
Like I said at the beginning of this post, "We never forget our first love".If we do try to blot it out of our memory then I ask you, what is worth remembering?
I first fell in love a few years ago, four to be precise. I was sixteen and just out of school. It was something like that Craig Douglas song 'only sixteen'
I was only sixteen, only sixteen
I loved her so
But I was too young to fall in love
And she was too old, I know
So who was this mystery woman, and why was this love frowned upon by many?
Let us begin by giving her a title. In no way Miss, because she had been "around for a while". Not Mrs, because that brings to mind notions of responsibility at home.That is something definitely not for her. And Ms always brings to my mind desirous, power-hungry females. No, we have to travel abroad for her title.My apologies to all respectably-married Francophones out there, but for the rest of us, this title is synonymous with Gallic naughtiness - Madame. But Madame who?
A friend of mine in Bombay first introduced me to Madame Nicotine. As I said, she "put out a lot". And for a sixteen-year-old in search of excitement and experience, she seemed to be the answer to my adolescent prayers. I remember the first time as though it were only yesterday. It took place in a dark and secluded corner, of course. But I will never forget the excitement as she first brushed my lips and her taste as she entered my mouth.
And then afterwards i experienced the exhilaration, the guilt and the nausea. I decided there and then, that this was a dangerous lady, once was enough, no more.
And so it stayed that way for a few months. Then we met again, and I succumbed again. "But no problem", I thought to myself, "I can take her and leave her". So I left her. But a feew weeks later, I took her once more. And so it went on, and each time she grew on me just a little bit more. Less nausea, more excitement, more satisfaction.
Until the day came that I realized we were inseparable. We were meant for each other, and I was her willing slave. I began to spend more and more on her, because she didn't come cheap. My parents warned me to stay away from her. They said she was bad for me. But I didn't care. I would flaunt our relationship in public, deliberately parading her around. As an exchange student, I would often spend money on her instead of food, because when I was with her, I no longer felt hungry. She became a part of my every waking moment.
When I started college, I started spending more and more on her. We couldn't get enough of each other. We would consummate our relationship twenty times a day. Sometimes it would be eager and greedy. I would snatch gratification from her selfishly. Other times it would be gentle, relaxed and we would enjoy ourselves in the quiet company of each other. Often, I would take her for granted, my hand reaching out for her unconsciously, taking her while my mind was on other things. But as long as I kept spoiling her with my money, she didn't mind at all.
Over the years we grew closer and closer to each other. We were inseparable. Not a day would pass without us meeting. I felt guilty, of course. Not only was she was taking my money, which should have gone into other things, but she was also harming my health. At first I paid no heed to the second aspect. But slowly i realized that I was not as fit as i wanted to be and Madame Nicotine was to blame.
Many times I tried to give her up. I told her so. She just laughed in my face. She knew my weaknesses too well. And of course I couldn't live without her. Before long, I would come crawling back. She always took me back, for sure, but not without making me feel weak and humiliated. She always knew how to humiliate me. How many times, discovering late at night that she was no longer there, did I wander the streets searching for a place where I might find her? Or, being somewhere where she was not allowed, how often did she entice me outside, for a quick and sordid liason in the pouring rain or in the snow.
Finally I decided "Enough is enough". She was bad for my health, bad for my pocket, her scent always covered me and revealed our shameful relationship to the world . I announced to her that we were finished. How did she react?
Exactly like Cruella de Ville on steroids. "You'll never leave me", she spat out in rage, "you are weak and puny and have no will power at all. You have now idea how much I'll make you suffer!"
She was right. Those first few weeks were a living hell. Often I would wake up in the middle of the night sweating, wanting to go back to her. When I saw her with someone else, my insides burned with rage.I could not stop thinking about her. For the first few days,she was all that was on my mind every waking second.
I don't know what stopped me going back to her. In desperation I flung myself into the arms of Miss Chewing Gum. She was a sweet thing, sure enough, and for a few brief moments she could take my mind off Madame Nicotine, but she had neither the personality nor the depth nor the sheer naughtiness of my former lover to make it a lasting relationship. And I think she always knew that. She knew that she was my rebound and that when she had served my selfish needs, I would throw her away into a trash can. Sometimes people are like that. But she fulfilled her purpose, and finally I was free.
That was a while ago. Every now and then I see her again, in the distance, in a cafe or bar, and she gives me a look of sad reproach. For a very brief moment, I remember our good times together, that first time she brushed my lips, those years we spent together through thick and thin, those years she was always by my side.
Like I said at the beginning of this post, "We never forget our first love".If we do try to blot it out of our memory then I ask you, what is worth remembering?
Monday, December 22, 2008
Homesickness
Its Christmas time.Its that time of year when everyone is at home with their families celbrating the birth of Christ. Sadly this year that is not the case with me. Although we do not celebrate Christmas at home, there is a feeling of homesickness inside of me right now.All my friends are back home with their families and sadly I am sitting here at home all alone yearning to be with mine too 4000 kms away dreaming of home.
I hear the mountain birds
The sound of rivers singing
A song I've often heard
It flows through me now
So clear and so loud
I stand where I am
And forever I'm dreaming of home
I feel so alone, I'm dreaming of home
It's carried in the air
The breeze of early morning
I see the land so fair
My heart opens wide
There's sadness inside
I stand where I am
And forever I'm dreaming of home
I feel so alone, I'm dreaming of home
This is no foreign sky
I see no foreign light
But far away am I
From some peaceful land
I'm longing to stand
A hand in my hand
Forever I'm dreaming of home.
I hear the mountain birds
The sound of rivers singing
A song I've often heard
It flows through me now
So clear and so loud
I stand where I am
And forever I'm dreaming of home
I feel so alone, I'm dreaming of home
It's carried in the air
The breeze of early morning
I see the land so fair
My heart opens wide
There's sadness inside
I stand where I am
And forever I'm dreaming of home
I feel so alone, I'm dreaming of home
This is no foreign sky
I see no foreign light
But far away am I
From some peaceful land
I'm longing to stand
A hand in my hand
Forever I'm dreaming of home.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
For the Fallen
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
I dedicate these words from the fourth stanza of poet Laurence Binyon's poem 'For the Fallen' to those 15 policemen and 2 NSG commandos who lay down their lives for their country battling terrorists on the 26th of November.Their sacrifice is something very distinguished and worthy of mention in the annals of Indian history.
Today as I sit here in my room on my laptop blogging,I pause for a moment and salute these men for their valour.The Good Lord now has another 17 angels with which to guard his gates to Heaven.
You will never be forgotten. May you all rest in peace.
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
I dedicate these words from the fourth stanza of poet Laurence Binyon's poem 'For the Fallen' to those 15 policemen and 2 NSG commandos who lay down their lives for their country battling terrorists on the 26th of November.Their sacrifice is something very distinguished and worthy of mention in the annals of Indian history.
Today as I sit here in my room on my laptop blogging,I pause for a moment and salute these men for their valour.The Good Lord now has another 17 angels with which to guard his gates to Heaven.
You will never be forgotten. May you all rest in peace.
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