Regretting the The Road Not Taken

I have no qualms over where I have reached in life. The problem is that this life is perfect. But not perfect for me.
Hardly 25 years old and I now realise how sheltered I have been from a lot of things in this world. From so many labels. From failure. And now that I am the captain of my own ship, I feel like I am losing. Losing this invisible race that I have been running since I was born. I am now afraid of failure. I am afraid to trust my instincts and take a leap of faith. I have become the cautionary tale that poets and storytellers write about. A normal man, stuck in his monotonous life, all under the pretence of ‘stability’ and ‘security’.
I regret not taking the risks I could have. I regret following the herd for so long that the undo button of life is now out of reach. I regret not being brave enough to let myself fall and scrape my knees, maybe bruise my elbows while I am at it. I regret not listening to my own voice shouting out at me every night while I was stuck like a clockwork cuckoo.
If you are reading this, then take this from me. It’s NOT OKAY to fail. It is NECESSARY to fail. To face your fears now when you can face them and rise back. If only I had the wisdom to follow the road covered with leaves.
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Miracles and Musings

Disclaimer: The following lines have been written by a highly unprofessional man. The lines you see are the result of cold medicine and tomato ketchup with a dash of grape Juice. Please do not write these at home!

Searching for gospels through the looking glass,

I’m waiting for miracles as I see my life flash.

This city, my Vaudeville, lost among the hum of generators,

leaves me staring at, looking at, empty buildings and

getting lost in the meticulous fluid of my being.

The comic inside me, who finds humour only in butter chicken,

now shouts out for a bar setting for once!

The unabbreviated neon lights on damaged roads

hypnotise the keyboard banging chimp inside my soul.

My brain aches from all the espresso thoughts,

and my ceiling puts a poker face as I stare at it in boxer shorts.

My prayers to God are only for ungodly things

(none of which involve an angel with wings.)

As i get warped into the fourth dimension of traffic

social media posts seem disturbingly terrific.

Viral fevers and chicken cravings,

back pains and ice cream with chocolate shavings

mould my world and cook a tune

as a thousand cello strings permeate my soul.

New City – I

(New personal record! 6 months without writing a single word… I’ve done a grave injustice to the writer inside me! From writing so articles, poems and Quora answers, I’ve switched to writing scripts and kernel modules. A silent prayer for my decreasing creativity and my ever increasing roundness!)

11th September.

I am sitting in my corner cubicle, getting my ass frozen off by the highly malfunctioning air conditioning. It’s Friday and there are very few people around me, thus allowing me to play my favourite playlist at the maximum possible volume. And it also made realise that I finally have some time to ramble.

It’s been more than two months since I joined at my new job. The work is cool, office people people are very chilled out. But this new city! I really can’t put my finger on it. I was born, brought up and educated in small cities. And now there’s Hyderabad. The city of Nizams, Biriyani, Haleem, Nawabs and Kebabs! 😀 So many stories around the old city! So much noise on the roads! The food, the trees, old buildings, even the daily commuting teaches me something new everyday!

This is a completely new experience. Setting up the apartment, living with completely different people, worrying about broken taps, enjoying lunch with my colleagues, getting desserts passed over from the adjacent table, going for a movie during office hours… It’s not as fun, but it’s new… It’s not the same, but it is shaping me up… It’s far from perfect, but it’s not monotonous… Let’s see what adventures I encounter!! 😀

charminar!

A Country of Labels

Facebook posts, tweets, open letters and hundreds of articles later what have we achieved?
We told the world that WE are a country of rapists.

I see my feed flooded with posts about how men need to change, how we need to respect our women more and how we need to promote equal rights for women. But between all this outcry and anger we have changed the actual common man.

Social media is generally a platform for the educated and civilized to create a ruckus about black and white dresses. But when we are writing, sharing and liking strongly worded posts, the virality (yes! It’s an actual word) stays limited to the millions of people who aren’t ignorant about the facts. And will you seriously tell us that it is the fault of men? Do we have to be labeled as ‘perverts’, ‘jerks’, ‘rapists’, ‘eve-teasers’ and such? Why do we have to fear everytime the bus hits a speed-breaker and we bump into the girl/woman/lady in front of us? Fear that they’ll turn around, shout at us and slap us in public while some self proclaimed feminist is filming it for his blog on his smartphone. Why do we have to be ashamed for being men?

FB STATUS

When we waged a war on terrorism and racism, we all spoke out saying “all Muslims are not terrorists.” Now there is another war on our doorstep. It is a war in which heinous, unspeakable, unthinkable and unforgivable acts are committed by people who are anything but human. But is it not YOUR duty to make sure that the words you spread condemn the criminal and not an entire gender? When you write “friends we should respect women”, do you honestly think that the danger lurks in the heart of your friends? When a person looks at our country all he/she sees in the subtext is “all men are rapists.” Is that right?

The people who are actually to be blamed lurk in the shadows, out of reach of common sense and morality. They are the ones who stalk women on the internet, who have no sense of right and wrong and to whom social media posts are all but impermeable. And the thousands of girls out there who actually have faced the trauma and the torture fight another battle to make their lives better. They don’t sit on social media and rant about it. WE do. People, dear to us, who have been through hell and back don’t tweet their struggles. WE do.

I’ve seen too many labels. I’m a brother, a son, a friend, a mentor and a boyfriend.
I am a man and I’m not a pervert.

Ramblings of an eccentric

(Warning: This post is way too long for the weak hearted. Enter at your own risk)

(Disclaimer: This is a work of sleep-deprivation. The writer/s have no frigging relationship to this post whatsoever. )

One day, when you have eaten something particularly indigestible, you’ll sit down for a long time and let your mind wander. If you’re lucky enough to have ignored a certain blood-pumping organ of yours for most of your life, then mark my words! For you, sir, are going to need a nice, thick magazine in your bathroom from now on. However, if you don’t fall in that particular genre and have always been unlucky, you’ll see all the people that were. Don’t let your mind wander too far for you’ll remember all the bad parts because you haven’t reminisced the good parts enough. But you’re sitting in absolute silence and all that you see is a crimson ash falling like snow. What do you do then? You start remembering.

After an absolutely preposterous and illegal amount of caffeine, I understood that it kills when the person you worry about is absolutely oblivious to it. What if someday the veil rises and you find out that you weren’t enough? Perhaps some of us have been doing it wrong all these years. We were fools to believe that all those motion pictures and all those bestselling books were true. It was our fault not to have been able to discern between reality and, well, the non-existent.

NO! I’m not going into a rant here against matters of the heart. Definitely not! (My girlfriend will publicly stone me if I do!) I’m just making an observation. We let people into our lives. Be it a friend, family or fiancée, the people we love hold the power to break, shatter and puncture our heart. Yes, we hold that power over them too. But nobody really thinks that way, do they? It’s okay. We are all a little selfish. We don’t want to change. Even if we do, we don’t want our dear ones to change. And when all of us have changed, it’s time to set fire to that house of cards we so carefully built. I’m a small-city guy with small dreams. I don’t know how it works in the big cities. I don’t know how to be ‘cool’ and get into recreational substances or recreational adultery (I do know sarcasm though!) and I certainly don’t want my friends to go that way. But then, I’m a small-city guy. What do I know about the culture and the society in the big bright cities of the world!? What do I know about independent women and the ‘players’ of this earth? Nothing, I believe. It all seems like a hazy dream to me. A dream many wouldn’t want to be in.

The more I think about it, the more it seems to me that life is a long game of Texas hold’em poker. You are dealt a hand and you play with it. You win some and you lose some but nobody leaves the table till a certain grim reaper is involved in the picture. I may seem slightly crazy but just think about it! All our choices and our decisions are not always right or always wrong. We travel on a sine curve, aiming towards happiness and then cascading downwards to a little misery. All the quotes and sayings about ‘not having any regrets’ seems a little bullshit at such indigestible times. After introspection and many a sleepless nights it’s pretty clear that we get screwed severely when we get a full hand of hearts. Because even if we get a straight flush, the house always wins.

But then, I’m a small-city guy. What do I know?

Wait…..

A truly beautiful and touching poem! Keep writing…

sribatsadotcom

Wait.... Wait….

I asked her for yet another time

should i mourn or take out the wine?

Even a word if not a line

was it so unjust, this demand of mine?

 

What if her answer is a NO?

And i have to let her go?

My love she will never know

And her memories i must forego

 

Empty glasses stare at me, longing to be filled

the barren land of my heart awaits to be tilled.

Wait is something i must do, till then my fate is sealed

Just a nod, a smile, a gaze, will render all healed.

 

What if her answer is a NO?

And i have to let her go?

My love she will never know

And her memories i must forego

 

As this terror grips me slowly, taking its toll

Adorning my headphones i embark on a stroll.

Hoping  for angels who…

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Back-alley of Ugly Truths

(The truth needn’t always be good. Sometimes it’s bitter and ugly and, well, destructive)

Dark Alley

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here
for this is the place where fallen angels crawl.
Where your worst fears are a walking reality
and the only conundrum is your bubbling morality.

Where winter cold chills the marrow and soul
and breath is rationed to all condemned,
all castles in the clouds fall down brick by brick
and you stand in place nailed down by shock.

All sweet dreams feasted by demented beings
and fights break out for a pound of your flesh.
Where hearts sink to watery depths
and then painlessly burst into oblivion.

dark alley_big

Where the evil that rises out of the wolves
slowly poisons the veins of mankind,
rendering your conscience dangerously helpless
in the face of the dark threats that lurk around.

Where clarion flies over your head night and day
and maggots get a feasting when people rejoice,
all the meat you eat there is poisoned, even in your sleep,
That is where an Inferno simmers under the streets.

You hear pleas of help yet are unable to pull
people out of the pits of their own miseries
for you are powerless whilst you bear
the weight of the truths you find here.
No light shall fester, no deliverance upheld.
So, abandon all hope, ye who enter here.