Dreams

Dreams. They can be very dangerous. They are even scarier than nightmares. Only because you know nightmares will not haunt you in real life, but with dreams, you hope they come true. And that hope can be devastating. Dreams can play in your head, over and over again, like a tape on rewind, or one of those old record players which is stuck at the same spot on the record. You begin to wish. You begin to hope even more. And that's when the harmless dream can take on certain nightmarish qualities.

Dreams are most dangerous when you lose track of the line that separates them from reality, hope from truth. When that line blurs and the dream seems real, true, that's when you know you're in trouble. That's when you need to wake up and smell the coffee. You need to know that difference between the pictures and life. You need to be able to enjoy the film and then know that reality beckons.

That is what life is about. Knowing the difference. Recognising it. And most important, accepting it. Because the consequences otherwise can be shattering.

The perfect coffee 6

It's called Adiga's and it's in Bangalore. 8 rupees, a small steel glass and a bowl. It's amazingly south indian, if that is a term I can use to describe coffee :) I loved it. It was worth every penny spent on it and the experience of drinking something so lovely, was something by itself. Adiga's needs to come to Pune. And I think its South Indian food is better than Vaishali's, no offence meant to anyone. It'd do better business I think...

French Loaf also has some really good coffee. And the coffee at Gloria Jean's Coffee is also worth a mention. They have some really good ginger cookies which go very well with a steaming mug of coffee.

Till next time, the coffee spree continues.

The perfect coffee 5

I think I might have spoken too soon. 10 rupee Viman Nagar coffee was good and set a benchmark which was shattered yesterday. Golden Lounge at M.G.Road is THE place to go for great coffee. The coffee costs 25 rupees so is easy on the pocket and on the tastebuds. It has the right mix of sweet, strong and milky. A double thumbs up from me. And the funny part of the whole thing is that this place is right down the road from Barista :) If only M.G. weren't so far away :| Perfect coffee, I have found you :D

I recommend never to drink the coffee or the hot chocolate from the stand just outside Adlabs. The coffee is watery and the hot chocolate stinks, literally and metaphorically.

The coffee from the Nescafe Coffee Corner at Dorabji's at M.G. Road again, is good. It's the usual Nescafe coffee. It costed 20 rupees and wasn't anything special.

So the old benchmark no longer exists and the new benchmark is set. This one is going to be hard to match up to.

Onward for more coffee :D

The perfect coffee 4

I think I may have found it. At a small place right here in Viman Nagar, I may have found what I've been looking for. The place has no name. And it's tucked away out of sight, but its coffee is great. It costs only 10 rupees and it's so amazing. It's milky, it's sweet, it's strong. I tried nitpicking and maybe I still am, but there's no denying the fact that it's a great cuppa.

This in no way means that I'm stopping the search. The search still continues. The only difference is that now I have a benchmark for the others to match up to. Maybe I'll find something better somewhere else, right :)

Wishes...

Sometimes I wish I could walk my thoughts away.
I wish I could walk my hurt away.
I wish I could walk away.
Walk on and on and on and continue walking forever.
My music and me together.
I wish I could just walk off the face of this planet.
Walk out of people’s memories, hearts.
I wish I could walk my memories away.
Walk slow, walk alone, walk away.
Walk without pain and sorrow and fear.
Forget.
Stop hoping.
Walk till I can’t feel anything anymore.
Walk till nothing else exists.
Walk till I touch the horizon.
Walk the soles off my shoes,
And continue walking after that.
If only I could,
Just walk away..

The perfect coffee 3

I went to Fergusson College Road yesterday. Still looking. Ended up at Vaishali. Now this was very close to what I am looking for. I finally found South Indian filter coffee. The only hitch was that it was too watery. The sugar was just right, the coffee flavour was strong.. If only it wasn't so watery, this could've been IT.

We walked further down FC Road and reached this small place called Amu coffee. Recommended to me by Vishal Menda, for its amazingly cheap, really good cold coffee, I was expecting a lot. And the place delivered. Only 10 rupees and we got a glass of cold, refreshing, great coffee. Now I had to try the hot coffee too. It costed 8 rupees and was milky but too sweet. But I would definitely recommend this tiny place tucked away in a corner of FC Road for it's cold coffee.

Haven't found it yet. I actually think that now even if I make my own coffee I won't think it's perfect :D Maybe I'm expecting too much from one cuppa.

Well, the search continues...

The perfect coffee 2

So I went to German bakery today, still searching for THE coffee. And turns out, the coffee's not bad. Not perfect but very close to it. I had a cappucino with a chocolate doughnut and then a coffee cream cake with no coffee flavour in it. I had a great time. Stuffed myself silly and didn't find IT but no regrets :D

So it continues...

The perfect coffee

The perfect coffee. It can be magic and no, I’m not talking about the company. I am talking about that one completely perfect cup of coffee. That perfect blend of strong, sweet and milky. That is what I’m looking for. I’ve made it a quest to discover my perfect cup of coffee here in Pune. And if it is cheap, then nothing like it. True South Indian filter coffee is definitely the best, but I am willing to settle for anything else that matches up.

Getting that perfect blend is an art. It takes skill to brew that coffee. That coffee which can sweep you off your feet. It does things to you, a good cup of coffee. It warms you up from the very core. It can make a headache disappear. It can literally carry you away with its flavour. It can make your taste buds dance to its tune; literally create music. It can make the worst day better. It is the perfect companion on a cloudy day. It is a good book’s best friend. It can be as great as a big hug. It’s well, beautiful.

I’ve tasted coffee at 6 places so far. The coffee at the college canteen comes from a machine and it’s not great but it’s cheap. The coffee from Fasos also comes from a machine, costs only 7 rupees and is actually quite good, but it’s not IT. The coffee at Kalyani veg, a south Indian restaurant, cost around 15 rupees and was strong but watery. Venkatraman came highly recommended but disappointed; the coffee was bland and a disgrace to south Indian coffee. Cafe Coffee Day’s cappuccino came very close to that perfection. It was a little heavy on the pocket though. The coffee at St. Laurn, a hotel at Koregaon Park was again bad.

I was so desperate to satisfy my coffee craving that I actually walked into Cafe coffee day and had a blonde moment. I walked in with my friends and then wondered out loud, "would they have coffee here?" Yes, I did it, but I meant the perfect coffee and just forgot to mention it :D

There are many more places to go and I will not rest till I’ve found my perfect coffee. Till I’ve experienced that blend which can play havoc with my taste buds, magic in a cup.

I will keep updating as to my progress.

May the force be with me :D

Her

Sameer Dattani gave me the concept and asked me to build something around it. I tried my best and this is what I could come up with.

I close my eyes
And find her
Her eyes
Her smile
Her fingers
Picture perfect.
Her image etched on the back of my eyelids.
An image
Created bit by bit,
Colour added slowly
Over time.
Drop by drop
Tint by tint
Fermented like wine.
As she grew closer
As she made her way in
Promising never to leave.

The picture,
I held so close to me.
The perfection
I believed existed.
But then she changed.
The image no longer the same.
The image still dear,
But dearer than her.
Flawless as marble.
As fleeting as a gust of wind,
But as permanent as the sky.

The admiration faded away
The flaws stood out like white on black.
The love died away
And she left
Just like that she left,
Leaving a hole
Where she had once promised to stay.

But the picture remained
She was long gone
But the picture stayed
As clear as crystal
Still flawless,
Her beauty still spellbinding.

But that is what she became,
A PICTURE.

Selflessness

Being different is the in thing. Everyone wants to be abstract, weird, random. It’s not COOL to be plain. It’s not COOL to be sober.

I wonder, in this rush to be different, aren’t we all alike? In the very fundamental desire to be unique, aren’t we all similar? Is there really a person out there who is completely unique? I think not; because at the very core we are all exactly the same. All of our relationships are need based. All of us are desperate for acceptance.

We can cry ourselves hoarse saying our relationships are selfless, but that doesn’t change the inherent fact that we NEED social contact. The whole concept of selfless love seems unbelievable to me because the very fact that you call it selfless proves it is selfish. Selfish because you NEED to tell yourself it’s true. Selfish because you NEED it to be true. Selfish because you NEED it to be selfless.

Random observations

Random observations I've made. I know I'm stating the obvious.

Beware of someone who's being unusually nice to you. It usually means they need something from you.

Highs are very high and then lows hit. They're the worst.

People are unpredictable. Very unpredictable.

A person's mind is a maze you do not want to enter. Because if you do, there's no way you can find your way out.

Good music and good books can be great friends. The best things when you don't want people around you because they take you to a world where things aren't as bad as they really are.

Walking is more than an exercise. It's a great way to think. But then too much thinking is never good either.

Finally something :)

Finally wrote something which I think is worth putting up.

You know how things can bite you in the arse? Trust is one of those things. It can come back and haunt you. Don’t give it away easily. Once you let it go, it can wreak all kinds of havoc. It can mess with your head. It makes you hope it’s a release from loneliness. It makes you believe, that you can’t, won’t be hurt. Nope. Trust can hurt; it can hurt so bad that nothing else matters. Trust gone wrong, trust misplaced, is the worst thing you can do to yourself. Because the pain is not physical, it’s mental, which is worse. It can make you want to kick yourself. Misplaced, broken trust is what starts the whole chain of doubt and questions.

So don’t let anyone know you better than you know yourself. Always, always keep your guard up because letting someone in can be the biggest mistake you ever make. Don’t let someone touch you so much that when they leave you can’t take it. Don’t let them in so much that when they go, you feel like a fool because that feeling does not feel good.

Trust – it can bite you hard..

Envy

It's not constructed right. And I still have to modify it.

It always hurts when someone gets more attention than you.
It’s childish, and it’s immature
But it still hurts
Envy always creeps in.
And how much ever you want to,
You just can’t stop.
Every negative thought you have,
You regret,
But you can’t stop
And all those old feelings
That you thought you grew out of
That you thought you left behind
Come rushing right back
And they still sting, as much as they did then
All those feelings of insecurity
Which you know mean absolutely nothing
Come right back
You can’t help it
And you hate it
But they’re there..
And they eat you up from inside
Slowly, surely
Little by little.

Serenity

Just a few lines.

Peace, calm, serenity
So unlike life...
Just the sky
And the silent ripples.
Minutes just flow like sand through my fingers
Life floats away on the breeze...

Realisations

I realised something.
I am not the one who's drowning
I am not surrounded by darkness
I don't need a helping hand
I don't need warm brown eyes
I don't need the promises

I am somebody's helping hand
I'm somebody's warm brown eyes
I'm somebody's promise
I'm somebody's support
I'm someone's light at the end of the tunnel
I'm someone's silver lining

And that makes me happy.
To know that I finally mean something to someone
Even though it isn't much
I mean SOMETHING

It's not my place in the puzzle
And it's not my notes holding the symphony together
And it's not my colours making the picture

But its a place till I find a more permanent one
My notes are holding a tune together
And they are making someone's picture

It heartens me that I can be this person
This shoulder,
This support
It gives me hope that I can give someone hope
And it makes me happy that I can make someone happy

As I say goodbye today

I wrote this poem a long time back as a farewell poem for my friends. I meant to put it up when I wrote it but I just never got around to it. It's very normal but it says what I was thinking.

As I say goodbye today
I look back on all the happy times we have had
We shared a lot of laughs
I smile when I remember the goofiness
And all the silly jokes
I wonder if the distance will weaken
The bridges we have built between our hearts
So many fond memories...
The sleepovers we had
The movies we watched
All the gossip
The silly arguments
The secrets we shared.
I close my eyes
And I can still see all the places we used to go to
And all the time we used to waste
I flip through the pictures we took
And I realize that leaving
Is going to be very hard
Every picture
Every memory
Every bad joke
Every random thought
Is going to remain etched on my heart and mind..
I’m preparing to step out into the world
And I will miss the support
That I knew was always there
I will always remember the sound of your laughter
And hope that time and distance
Will not affect the beautiful friendship we shared...
I know that as I grow older
The pictures may fade
And so might the memories
But the love
Will never be erased,
Never diminish
And never disappear...
Goodbye dear friend..
And thank you for everything..

Blah

Man is a desperate creature.
Desperate for attention
Desperate for social contact
Desperate for love
Desperate for acceptance
Desperate for survival
Desperate for anonymity

Music

These are just a few thoughts I had. The lines are cliched and have all been used before, but still.

Music transcends generations, places and languages. It has a language of its own. It can be uplifting or depressing; it can be cruel or romantic; it can be humorous or sad. It can take you with it to a place far away. It can show you people you have never seen. It can tell you tales; it can guide you; it can mislead you. It is love; it is loss; it is pain; it is sorrow. It is about yesterday; it is about today; it is about tomorrow.

...............................

Again a lot of mixed random thoughts. So many things I want to say, no right words and no right way to say them.

There are so many thoughts going through my head. An idea emerges but before I can hold on to it and get it down properly on paper, it vanishes.
So many different people, so many different viewpoints..... Life has changed and I know that in some way, I have changed too. I hold to my viewpoints more fiercely but I am more open to what others think too.
Lessons, experiences, oppurtunities.....
I think more and analyse things too. Would something I say make a difference? Is embarassing myself worth making new friends, making people laugh? Being known as a goofball, always laughing around, loud - I wonder if that is who I am.... But then I answer my own question, that is definitely who i am now. It might not be who I was before, but now.... I like the way I am.
Then again, so much talent, it scares me. I feel inadequate, worthless and very very tiny. I always knew that whatever I was good at, someone would always be better. But actually seeing it happen while I just sat there, lost, was hard. I felt like some sort of a traitor saying I was good at something and then seeing how dedicated someone else was. Seeing someone who loved and enjoyed what they were doing while forgetting everything else, made me feel like I had absolutely no right whatsoever to claim I was good at something.
Well, I'm open to more experiences now and though sometimes I get extremely nervous I think I should just go for it.

People are never who they seem to be. There is always a hidden agenda or thoughts they wouldn't share. Your thoughts are your most private, most personal things. Things which you choose to share with the people you want to share them with.

It's good to meet new people. To hear stories and share moments with people you haven't met before. To create new moments, new memories, new stories. Every new person you meet is a clean slate. Someone you can start anew with. Who doesn't know who you are, why you are the way you are. But then comes the question, do you really behave the same way with everyone you meet or talk to? There is always a bit of embellishment. You might laugh at a joke you would otherwise scoff at. Or eat something you would never otherwise touch. Or listen to a song you always thought was bad. Cursory changes to the outer you no doubt, but the person inside, the core is still the same.

Anyway, getting back to what I began with, people are never who they seem to be. If you can embellish, so can everyone else.

Money money money, it's a rich man's world..

The power of green..... The world always has, still does and always will revolve around money. It DOES make the world go round. A very intelligent person wrote, "Whoever said money can't buy happiness, doesn't know where to shop." Those who ask us to choose between money and satisfaction need to rethink their question because money IS satisfaction. You need money for everything. To have fun, to study, to SURVIVE.

In today's day and age it doesn't matter how you get it; what matters is that you have it. Especially in a country like India, money is POWER. Politicians give a tiny rat's arse about what is happening to the nation, they want money. Teachers give a damn about what's happening to their students because they aren't getting paid to care and actually, why should they.

I wonder whether I should lament the fact that every bloody thing today is run by that green piece of paper or prepare myself to dive in and grab whatever I can. People slog every minute of every day, only so that they can collect and hoard. And I must say, that is what has to be done today.

Money is God and money is the Devil. It can buy ecstasy and it can bring pain. It can build mighty towers and shatter relationships.

Money runs the world................................................

Pictures

Just a few thoughts..

They say a picture says a thousand words. But pictures are more than just a thousand words. They are memories. Fragments, moments of life. They tell stories. They have a whole language of their own. They crystallize and capture moments on a canvas. They immortalize a feeling or a thought. A picture can bring tears to ones eyes and they can also make you laugh out loud. Looking at a picture, a photograph, can take you back to another time, another place. It preserves those tiny moments that make life worth living. The happy times with friends; the beauty of a sunset; the first rainfall; the special family outings; the goofy, silly poses....
Pictures-they are more than just colours on a paper, they are emotions, forever frozen in time, never to be forgotten.

Young love

The first two lines were written by Sameer.. I wrote the rest..

From the faded ink and torn papers
Reeks the smell of young love.
Brings back memories
Of innocent crushes
Passionate infatuation
Silly, juvenile poems
Silent declarations of love
Whispered promises of together forever.
And as the love faded away
Like the ink on a paper
It brought with it
Tears of longing
Crushing heartbreak
Experiences, lessons..
Young love, long forgotten,
But still remembered....

I cannot go to school today

I just stumbled upon this gem of a poem and wanted to share it :D

"I cannot go to school today,"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash, and purple bumps.

My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox.

And there's one more-that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue-
It might be "instamatic" flu.

I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke-
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in.

My back is wrenched, me ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains it time it rains,
My nose is cold, my toes are numb,
I have a sliver in my thumb.

My neck is stiff, my spine is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.

My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight,
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.

I have a hangnail, and my heart is-what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is. . . . Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!!"
--Shel Silverstein

Lost in translation

I wrote this one last night. Got most of what I wanted out, but still feels kinda incomplete. Oh well...

It was my day to shine
But I was outshone.
My day to be the best
But someone was just better.

I hoped for some assurance
That I mattered.
That I had made a difference.

I hoped for some recognition,
Maybe someone who had realised
That I wasn't the black spot in the background,
But the colour that made the picture.

I hoped to be the notes
that held the symphony together.
Instead,
All I became was a single,
lilting tune,
Lost in the medley.

I wanted to be noticed,
Needed someone to acknowledge
My presence,
But I guess I just faded away,
Got lost
in translation..............

Incomplete.

I wrote this a week or so back. It's incomplete and I don't think I'll be able to finish coz the words aren't coming out right. Definitely one of my worst.

I'm afraid of
The person I've become.
I look back at who i used to be
And wonder,
How it all changed so much.
People came and went.
Some touched my heart
Some left their mark
Others faded
Into the distant haze of my memories.

A dog's life

It has been a long time.. Haven't been writing too much. There have been times when I've wanted to write but I guess I just couldn't find the words.
I wrote this story a while back.. The topic and stuff was given to me and I built the rest of the story.

I watched the red car drive away. I tried following it but it was too fast and there were too many vehicles. I kept screaming out their names, kept saying I was sorry, but they just continued driving. I finally gave up. Out of breath, I watched my family recede into the distance, getting smaller and smaller till I could see them no more.

I was right back where I'd started. They say you always go back to your roots in the end. I guess it was just my time. I walked desolately mulling over why all this had happened to me. Thinking of my life till this moment, the choices I had made, the consequences of those choices...

I was thirsty and I walked off the road and found a puddle. As I lapped the dirty but still refreshing water, I couldn't help but remember my clean, silver bowl back home. But it wasn't my home anymore. They weren't my family anymore.

I was born in a gutter and had two brothers and two sisters. My mother was weak from hunger and had no milk to give us. We could barely open our eyes but we already knew that life was going to be hard. My brothers and sisters died in that very first week, never knowing life or love. My mother tried scrounging for scraps and I ate what little she got. I still wonder why God kept me alive and took away my family.

I had no name; I had no identity. Food was hard to come by and we took whatever we got. It was hard but we got by. I had friends and together we survived.

I can remember every moment of that day when the dreaded Blue Cross van caught all of us. We were bundled into the back of the van and we knew we would never return. I was terrified. I guess everyone was. We were taken to a very somber looking building and put into separate cages. I missed my freedom. But they gave us food and a bath and some long pointy things were stuck into our bodies. The men called them injections. I also heard them say we were "strays" who needed love. I realised that this might not be so bad after all.

The pitiful mewing of a little kitten snapped me out of my reverie. The entire myth of dogs hating cats is just that- a myth. I picked up the little thing as gently as I could and put it in the warmest place I could find. Without realising it, I had wandered into the backalley of a colony near the highway. I found an overturned cardboard box to crawl into and lost myself in my mmories once again.

It was a hot, summer day when the Mishras came to "adopt" a dog. The men had been talking about this all week. They had scrubbed us extra hard and had even brushed our teeth. We all knew it was important occasion. The Mishras were a serious-looking couple and they had a little girl. She was so pretty. They called her Tania and she had the warmest brown eyes I have ever seen on a human.

She must have been about 8 years old and bounded from cage to cage chattering all the while. Mr. Mishra, as the boss called him, had an angular face with square glasses. He told Tania to pick any dog she liked. I could never explain why she chose me. She said I was cute and that I had the best bark among all the dogs.

It was another goodbye as I left the other dogs behind and was taken away by the Mishras. Those were the happiest days of my life. I had a bed, good food, a lawn to play in and the cutest mistress ever. She called me Jackie and I finally had an identity. It was like a candle had been lit in the darkness of my life. I was truly happy.

But I guess it was never in my destiny yo be happy. Mr. Mishra came home one day and announced that he was being transferred to Delhi and that I had to be left behind. My heart sank and Tania burst into tears. I had been with her for almost 5 years and couldn't imagine living without her. The days after that went by in a flash and all I can remember are a lot of boxes and Tania's sad eyes. I remember the arguments she had with her father and her tears soaking my fur. How could I try to cheer her up when I was so sad myself?

And then it was time. Me heart felt like it had been crushed into pieces by a sledgehammer. Tania never stopped crying and Mrs. Mishra had moist eyes too. Their luggage was loaded onto the trucks and I was lying in Tania's lap. I guess I was still in shock and still couldn't believe that I was going to be separated from my family.

It started raining but I wasn't feeling the cold. The box was soaking wet and reminded me of Tania's tears. I was back at the beginning, too heartbroken to start again. I lay there, listening to the steady rainfall and felt the darkness take over. My eyes got blurry and me heart grew cold. I was drifting away on a cloud. I thought I saw Tania and then the darkness engulfed me forever...

"Ramesh, I think this dog is dead. Stupid dogs. We don't get paid to bury stupid dead mutts. Hmph... Ramesh, help me get this thing out of here."