Frankly my dear, I DO give a damn.

Sometimes you are in so much of haste to treat a wound, that it ends up leaving a stain for a much longer period.You try to hide it first,then soothe and then try to walk brazenly as if you are not hurt a bit.But you keep paying attention.Always.Thus it grows. It appears to wane,to fade.But it grows.So much so, that after a while you  are not sorry that you hurt yourself,but sorry that you haven't forgotten it till now.

Neither forgotten.Nor forgiven.

May be,You don't want to forgive.You don't seek redemption but You'll not forgive.You don't wish him ill...may be because he can cause you no harm,or maybe because you have caused him enough......You don't wish him ill....for he no longer means anything to you.You just are trying to shrug off what he once meant to you. May be you only hurt yourself in the process...I don't know... it lingers,a scar,a blemish, it's alien....it's his....yet now it's yours.

Sometimes It's  not satisfying enough just to ignore somebody,So,you rant on your blog to see if it helps.

P.S-Please **** off somewhere.somewhere without orkut/gmail.. so that i don't have to see your stupid smile  and forwards again and i promise i'll try to forget you.

0.007

2 Bond movies in 2 days has not really helped my megalomania.I am dazed and overwhelmed by 007.You know,I am as such at a very impressionable stage of my career. Having quit the sole job i had been generously offered and as usual having been disillusioned by the lot around me,  Bond..James Bond, seems almost irreristable.I like him....
I have never seem in uniform, never seem him carrying files,for all i know,he does not have to even punch his card.....Of course he doesn't have a cubicle and PC of his own... but what the hell, most of the time i have seen him in presidential suites and swimming pools.[sigh].He gets super cool cars from his boss for all his official work.He travels by air so damn frequently as if they were company cabs .I have never seen him preserve his bills for reimbursement..wow and i have not even started about the gals.He just walks in..and sweeps girls off their feet onto whatever is flat and wide nearby.He, for one, has got license for many things..I wonder what is the qualification required?..Must not be much..they had once hired a milkman.!!!!!

Curse(ry) Rhymes

1.

Chubby cheeks, dimpled chin.
parting lips, teeth shining within.
Curly but few hair, very very fair.
Eyes are blue, spectacles too.
Boss' pet, is that you?
Yes! Yes! Yes!

2.

Twinkle twinkle grizzly bear,

How I wonder so fat you are,
hidden inside the cubicle so low,
Like a manhole cover on the sewage flow.
3.
Baa baa drunkard sheep, have you any work ?
Yes sir, yes sir, three weeks full !!
One for the grizzly bear, one for the chubby cheeks,
And one for the little boy who just left down the lane.


Unclaimer- All resemblances to people either dead,working or alive is purely typographical and unitended.All disputes to be tried under the jurisdiction of Mudhol village panchayath(Bagalkote District).

swalpa OVERflow

Lives indeed resemble rivers.
Many have been displaced and "displeased" because i decided to change course time and again.
I have had to meander because some refused to pave way.
I have merged, branched,no longer resembling what i was, but remaining in a way unchanged.
Lives indeed resemble rivers.
Some exotic ...some- boringly,commonplace.
some comfortably predictable ....some refreshing.
some elusive...some pacified.
some pristine..some turbid.
P.S -.I am no alien to being dam(n)ed either.

How the chemistry didn't work out ;)

I and the (M)alchemist
It has been about 8 years since i read "The alchemist".I loved it at that time. i thought i'll be able to hear whispers of the universal language..over the next 3 months or so i really tried to listen to what the overgrown road hump had to say on my way to school.... the lamp post refused to talk,my bicycle remained terse apart from the occasional screech when i put the brakes and i was not able to decipher whenever the clouds made faces......the universe perhaps should have conspired harder...i never got into IITs..never found any beautiful girl sitting next to me in train....never got a totalling mistake in my favour.....
Then i gave up.
san(s) tiago life's a little less mysterious..but a lot quieter.
Anyway,last month we presented the allchemists to my brother.!!!!Hmmmm....
There's a time to read "The Alchemist";there's a time time to forget it.
It's the period between that has made that bugger coelho a millionare!!!!
P.S- I hope eleven minutes fares out longer...err... i mean better.

Past but not quite passé

Too much is made out of future and it's so called mysteries....i am more in love with the past...isn't it more fascinating to think about all the time one has spent so far.... 1.19 million minutes have passed through me ...(Ya..ya i spent 1 more trying to calculate it !!) ...each one like a small ripple...small yet unmistakably potent...minute minutes that shaped me.....all those impulsive decisions that clicked..all those well-thought that boomeranged..all those where i was/wasn't/ a mute spectator.Smiling to myself, i can spend hours i guess.... it's not like i have had an outstanding childhood or adolescence but you know it has been my life..so whatever little twists and turns there are, am completely absorbed in it...
Whereas there seems to be nothing in future... nothing i can dream about....having wilfully bred a contempt for the ordinary, i have very few things left worth dreaming...and i don't feel like trying to enlarge what my neighbour has done and pass it off as an achievement..

Hence...future will have very little to surprise me...cause what it'll offer me... I'll treat it as below par or simply something that i cannot be proud about and and whatever little i want to be proud about,for obvious reasons won't be offered to me....
so i walk looking backwards however ridiculous it might sound ..each step revealing to me things that i have happened upon, rather than walk wishing such and such thing would happen to me...

Last MAN Standing

it's easier to grind your teeth,bite your lips,dig your heel and take the all threatening storm of 5 min on it's head.But if it's a wind,even if it's barely sufficient to throw the cap off your head and seems really innocuos, and say it continues..an hour..a day..a week... it starts eating you slowly and slowly.Because then it's not a question of courage but a quality deservingly rated high-Patience.To be able to put your head down..stretch yourself day in and out..to wear the trouble out becomes the only option sometimes.That's why they call the last one standing..the last MAN standing.

Thus spake Apopheniac.

There's a small playground or so it's called,  near my place.Every evening there are atleast 50 people playing in it,forming between them a dozen odd teams...playing half a dozen different games and in that their own improvised variants.I mean they play football, kho-kho, cricket and in that... one-pitch-out...three-times-beaten-out...full-toss-beyond-the-tree-out...bowling ... throw ...it's a complete medley.One game's third man is another game's extra cover and another game's boundary.Sometimes just when a batsman is ready to face a delivery..an overthrow from the other game's backward point knocks his stump over...he mutters something in kannada under his breath and starts arranging the stumps again.There are times when a fielder gets engrossed more in the other match and misses his catch....

The ball here is perpetually in the other's court.

It's almost as if you are playing your game..but are part of many more...acting as an umpire at times...the ball-boy in others and the sheer irritant in some others..

So when my fate is getting back to it's mark for the next delivery i have time to kick the out-ball back to the goal keeper...acknowledge that the the ball did not cross the line for the other and perhaps say sorry to  the fielder who was banking on you to stop the ball while u moved away .

Indeed life's a game.Yours and others'.    

Yet another abuse of space. Refer below for details ;)

tons has been written about love... about...

being in love..

no love..

knowing love....

blinding love..

binding love....

the PCB and of course Mat(h)e-a matics of love[err...]

I have my own views about it and will keep it close to my heart for there is  neither a desire nor a need for such an indiscreet disclosure...But just this one line from Oscar wilde.... 

"Isn't general incivility the very essence of love ?"

take a heavenly bow Mr Wilde.

I and the two diverging roads in the wood....

With due apologies to Mr Robert Frost,by the sheer power of man's procreation levels there are no paths left less travelled by now....all have been trudged...all have been laid...milestones put..probable destinations marked at cross-roads....you can still turn right in an alley where others have taken left but even for that you have to first take the highway along with scores of others in the past and hundreds in the future.And there are chances that you will still be identified by the common highway where you would think you have made a mark in the alley.Moreover the desire to take a different path might in itself be a weakness.So now that i have liberated myself from the obligation of being different, i need to treat all my choices subjectively and there you see all clarity fades.Each one is on his own there.So sometimes in winter fog reigns so supreme that you can neither look back cause its irrelevant and nor ahead cause its not possible.So however weird the path chosen may look to people in broad sunlight...there would be reasons why it was chosen,need not be right reasons..but reasons nonetheless.Each one of us will face this moment of truth one time or many times perhaps and we realise..just like it was for him...it's grey and haze that dominates and not black or white.So you need not be in glass houses to have the wisdom of not throwing stones at others...solid bricks crumble,walls become so brittle with time that a gentle breeze can bring them down .

whether it's RCC or glass it's better to keep our stones in our pockets.