So how does it feel to know that you are completely dispensable in someone's life? All that you thought was important and necessary, suddenly just a pitiful attempt at self-consolation.
How does it feel to know that you do not matter? That you never did. That you were just a waste of space and breath. That you are just as easily replaceable as a broken chair or a dirty pillow cover.
How does it feel to know that the love you gave and the sacrifices you made were secretly laughed at? How does it feel when you realise that the respect you were given was a pacifier, given to a baby to keep it silent and out of everyone's way.
How does it feel to have your beliefs and ideas, which you tried so hard to stand by, thrown back spitefully in your face like a cruel joke? How does it feel to be just a number on the phone, deleted with the click of a button?
How does it feel to have the carpet whipped out from under your feet making you land with a great big thump on your behind? How does it feel to see those painstakingly built castles crash as if they were made of sawdust?
Oh wait.
You don't know?
Well think about it. And prepare yourself.
Because in reality, you never mattered, you never will. You'll disappear like the biodegradable lump of human matter that you really are and no one will even notice.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
The perfect coffee 13
It has been months. I apologise to those few who maybe read this space and maybe missed my adventures with coffee.
To be completely honest, I haven't tasted a lot of coffee in Pune since my last post. Myriad reasons led me to abandon the search for my true perfect cup. I did drink a few cups here and there but nothing that was worth mentioning here except maybe the coffee from Coffee House in M.G. Road, Pune.
But this post isn't about excuses. I don't even know if signals another beginning to the search. This post is just dedicated to the absolute bliss I experienced yesterday.
At Saravana Bhavan. In Delhi of all places.
I was bored and tired of all the rotis and the sabjis and was desperate for a taste of South Indian food, if only for a change of flavour. And so Devu and I set off to the Saravana Bhavan at Connaught Place. Dosa with chutney and sambar. Pakka South Indian :) and then the cherry on the cake. The coffee... True South Indian filter coffee. Served in a glass with a bowl. Strong, frothy, milky. PERFECT.
And it gave me so much happiness that I had to write about it :)
It didn't matter that it was super hot outside, not exactly conducive to hot coffee, or that it was too less. It was just that one perfect glass of South Indian coffee that I have so desperately been looking for.
Now all I need is a Saravana Bhavan in Pune.
To be completely honest, I haven't tasted a lot of coffee in Pune since my last post. Myriad reasons led me to abandon the search for my true perfect cup. I did drink a few cups here and there but nothing that was worth mentioning here except maybe the coffee from Coffee House in M.G. Road, Pune.
But this post isn't about excuses. I don't even know if signals another beginning to the search. This post is just dedicated to the absolute bliss I experienced yesterday.
At Saravana Bhavan. In Delhi of all places.
I was bored and tired of all the rotis and the sabjis and was desperate for a taste of South Indian food, if only for a change of flavour. And so Devu and I set off to the Saravana Bhavan at Connaught Place. Dosa with chutney and sambar. Pakka South Indian :) and then the cherry on the cake. The coffee... True South Indian filter coffee. Served in a glass with a bowl. Strong, frothy, milky. PERFECT.
And it gave me so much happiness that I had to write about it :)
It didn't matter that it was super hot outside, not exactly conducive to hot coffee, or that it was too less. It was just that one perfect glass of South Indian coffee that I have so desperately been looking for.
Now all I need is a Saravana Bhavan in Pune.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
It's getting harder to hold it all in.
Things seem pretty good on the outside,
But the core is rotting, slowly.
The walls look sturdy
But the foundation's crumbling from within.
The good that people do disappears with the wind
But the bad? That stays. It's remembered. It's held on to.
Things you smile and wave away,
You say they don't matter anyway.
In reality they live and grow and fester
Bottled up and hidden inside they stay.
Things are good, you smile and nod.
Ignoring the pain, the hurt, the doubt.
Because hope keeps us going, keeps us alive.
Maybe we'll heal, we'll change, we'll survive.
Things seem pretty good on the outside,
But the core is rotting, slowly.
The walls look sturdy
But the foundation's crumbling from within.
The good that people do disappears with the wind
But the bad? That stays. It's remembered. It's held on to.
Things you smile and wave away,
You say they don't matter anyway.
In reality they live and grow and fester
Bottled up and hidden inside they stay.
Things are good, you smile and nod.
Ignoring the pain, the hurt, the doubt.
Because hope keeps us going, keeps us alive.
Maybe we'll heal, we'll change, we'll survive.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Shards and pieces
Stillness, stagnation and change.
Oxymorons much?
Repetition and trials
So much gone wrong
So many threads unravelled.
So many pieces broken, lost.
Mistakes, memories.
Millions of thoughts.
Just drifting around.
Floating.
Irrevocable damage
Unknowingly done.
Irreplaceable pieces
Knowingly discarded.
Masks and mirages.
Hopes and desires.
Regrets and remorse.
Together all
Constantly shifting.
Silence, a lie.
Rest, a luxury.
Words.
A release.
Oxymorons much?
Repetition and trials
So much gone wrong
So many threads unravelled.
So many pieces broken, lost.
Mistakes, memories.
Millions of thoughts.
Just drifting around.
Floating.
Irrevocable damage
Unknowingly done.
Irreplaceable pieces
Knowingly discarded.
Masks and mirages.
Hopes and desires.
Regrets and remorse.
Together all
Constantly shifting.
Silence, a lie.
Rest, a luxury.
Words.
A release.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
They say that one of the worst things you can do to yourself is to sell your soul to the devil. The thing is, the very fact that the word 'sell' is used, entails a give and take, even though it's usually unfair.
You know what's worse than selling your soul?
Just giving it up. Handing it over on a silver platter with no sale, no bargain.
Know why it's worse?
Because you can't even blame the devil. You have only yourself to blame.
You know what's worse than selling your soul?
Just giving it up. Handing it over on a silver platter with no sale, no bargain.
Know why it's worse?
Because you can't even blame the devil. You have only yourself to blame.
Friday, May 13, 2011
No one ever writes about us. It's unfair really.
All you people ever care about is the happy ending and the smiling faces of the hero and the heroine. When do you ever wonder about my happy ending?
Agreed that sometimes I'm the "bad guy", but doesn't the "bad guy" also get a happy ending? And what about those times that I'm not the bad guy? Even then I don't get the girl. Even after doing everything right.
You think it's easy being ditched at the altar. After investing time and money in the damn wedding, it all gets ruined because the love of my life decides I am not the love of her life. Imagine standing there with an insanely happy grin plastered on your face dreaming about the wonderful future you are going to have and then watching your bride run away to "find her true love". Talk about giving due warning. Ever heard of talking to me before the wedding? I guess not.
And what about the emotional scars that leaves behind? Do any of you ever wonder what a beating my self-esteem takes? Being dumped at the altar for another guy doesn't do very well for the ego you know. Heartbreak is a messy affair by itself and when you add to that the TRAUMA of being dumped at your own wedding, you can't even begin to imagine the concoction THAT turns out to be. You know how depressing it is and how much it makes you doubt yourself? I think not.
When are there ever any sequels about me? All you see are their happily ever afters. Their babies, their tralala songs and their oh-so-happy smiling faces. None of you ever bother to follow up my story. You don't even attempt to think about what happened to me after I got my heart ripped out of my chest and crushed with a sledgehammer into a thousand pieces.
Then you blame me for becoming cynical. Try dreaming about that girl every day every night and then finding out she loves someone else. She's allowed to "follow her heart" but then what about my heart huh? Nope. No one cares about my hopes, my dreams, my future, my love and all that jazz.
No one ever cares about the secondary character.
No one cares about me. While I'm left standing in that church. No one bothers with the jilted lover. I don't matter in the great scheme of things right?
Yeah. Cos I'm just the convenient scapegoat.
All you people ever care about is the happy ending and the smiling faces of the hero and the heroine. When do you ever wonder about my happy ending?
Agreed that sometimes I'm the "bad guy", but doesn't the "bad guy" also get a happy ending? And what about those times that I'm not the bad guy? Even then I don't get the girl. Even after doing everything right.
You think it's easy being ditched at the altar. After investing time and money in the damn wedding, it all gets ruined because the love of my life decides I am not the love of her life. Imagine standing there with an insanely happy grin plastered on your face dreaming about the wonderful future you are going to have and then watching your bride run away to "find her true love". Talk about giving due warning. Ever heard of talking to me before the wedding? I guess not.
And what about the emotional scars that leaves behind? Do any of you ever wonder what a beating my self-esteem takes? Being dumped at the altar for another guy doesn't do very well for the ego you know. Heartbreak is a messy affair by itself and when you add to that the TRAUMA of being dumped at your own wedding, you can't even begin to imagine the concoction THAT turns out to be. You know how depressing it is and how much it makes you doubt yourself? I think not.
When are there ever any sequels about me? All you see are their happily ever afters. Their babies, their tralala songs and their oh-so-happy smiling faces. None of you ever bother to follow up my story. You don't even attempt to think about what happened to me after I got my heart ripped out of my chest and crushed with a sledgehammer into a thousand pieces.
Then you blame me for becoming cynical. Try dreaming about that girl every day every night and then finding out she loves someone else. She's allowed to "follow her heart" but then what about my heart huh? Nope. No one cares about my hopes, my dreams, my future, my love and all that jazz.
No one ever cares about the secondary character.
No one cares about me. While I'm left standing in that church. No one bothers with the jilted lover. I don't matter in the great scheme of things right?
Yeah. Cos I'm just the convenient scapegoat.
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