In this moment

I feel like life is passing me by. Every few days something marks a milestone, a birthday, an anniversary, or a new year. And each year I decide, this new year is going to be the most productive of the my life. I am going to life my life to the fullest. And somehow, I catch myself, a few days later, thinking, did I? Am I? Can I?

What would living my life to the fullest imply?

I do not know.

All I know is, life is passing me by.

A lot can happen in a day, but years fly by unnoticed. The first couple of peers from my PhD class are preparing to graduate soon. Home stretch for me too now.

Years, unsure how many, unnoticed.

I need a construct, a labor of love. Something that grows with time, that I do not have to force but comes out naturally, yet little by little, day by day, year by year, it builds, monotonically increasing.

So that every time I look back and wonder how far I have come, if at all, I have a reassuring monument tethering me to hope.

What can one man do?

Last days of 2014

It was a beautiful day, the sun beat down

I had the radio on, I was drivin'

Trees flew by, me and Del were singin' little Runaway

I was flyin'

                               -- Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, "Runnin' Down A Dream"

We, my wife and I, escaped the sub-zero flurries in Virginia to flee to Florida and a resplendent 25 degrees Celsius, literally the scientifically defined room temperature. All the niggling hiccups notwithstanding, I declare vacation accomplished.

I like what I do, and if I got paid a little more I could do it all my life. Even though I am but a microscopic pinprick in the vast expanse of scientific endeavor, I believe the very contemplation of the fact unites me with the expanse. I suspect this belief (being an insignificant yet irreplaceable part of a larger plan) is fundamentally similar to a profound spiritual or religious faith except that it does not contradict logic or common sense. 

And common sense says that much as I like having equations and conjectures floating in my head, I would do well to periodically wipe the slate clean. Every six months a week long vacation away from the daily grind does wonders for my psyche. Not checking e-mail is the modern age tapasya, a cathartic penance for those seeking to rise above the world-wide-web-ly desires. 

Of course that does not mean that it is even possible to turn the mind off even on a vacation. Give a man a fish and you have fed him for a day. Teach a man to fish for meaning in every unassuming nook of an indifferent cosmos and you have given him food for thought for a lifetime.

What does a manatee do but sleep all day and eat when its bored? As my wife asks, why does it exist? Why is a 3000 pound lumbering hulk nibbling on my hand like a puppy? Is a manatee a metaphor of existence - either pointless, caught in an endless cycle of self gratification, or blissful, uniting with rather than conquering its environment.

A circle, no matter how vicious, has no direction.

I felt so good, like anything was possible

Hit cruise control and rubbed my eyes

                               -- Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, "Runnin' Down A Dream"

Florida keys are a group of islands stretching out more than a 100 miles south of mainland US connected by a thin highway practically at sea level. On either side of the road, the ocean is an infinite expanse. Water as far as the eye can see, water as green as blue can be, water so perfect, so serene and so infinitely deep, it inspires and terrifies me...

I can watch waves crashing for ever. In nature where most beautiful things are ephemeral (sunsets and snowflakes) and most things terrible eternal (death), crashing waves and open flames can bring me endless joy. Each wave or lick of flame that stands out from the rest seems to be the last great one, one that could not be bettered. I wait for a while, then eventually resign and let the juvenile antics of squabbling licks and middling waves amuse me.

Yet if I wait long enough, there is always a bigger, longer, higher, better one. Always.
And yet, if I wait long enough, the average is always the same. Always. 

Bell curves can make life worth living...

The last three days and the rain was unstoppable

It was always cold, no sun shine

                              -- Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, "Runnin' Down A Dream"

Speaking of eternal, stars. The stars are out all night in the everglades campsite. Sure I have seen better starlit nights before, but that never seems to disappoint me. Seeing any more than the five stars I can see from the city is exciting.

I meet relatives on this trip who have been around the world more times than they can remember, even though every trip has left a mark in their life. I would like to go all around the world someday, eat all the crazy foods and listen to all the weird languages. And I want to look at their stars and say... "We are not so different, you and I. See that star, it sings to me too."

I try to show off some star trivia to my wife to look smart. However, when its midnight and a raging thunderstorm threatens to rip your tent off, or flood it at the very least, I feel dumb. Why did I not check the weather and book a hotel instead? Why did I not buy a better tent fortress? Why did I not get the electric dipole question right in JEE and get a job at Google, it <probably> does not rain like this in California? 

And then my wife rolls over to tell me she's okay and I should go to sleep. To let me know that I am not "that" dumb. That I could do a million dumb things a day and they would all still not match up to the smartest decision I made. To sit next to the chirpy dimpled girl in class all those years ago. I won't go to sleep. I'll stay awake to make sure we are warm and dry. 

That is what a smart person would do, and I is smart.

Wooo ooooo...

Wooo ooooo...

Wooo ooooo...

Wooo ooooo...

                              -- Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, "Runnin' Down A Dream"

How fast can you go in a car before you start contemplating the fragility of your mortality? Physically, the human body was never designed to move faster than 45 km an hour. An impact or slip at that speed, which cheetahs and gazelles routinely experience, would shatter the human body like glass. Our bodies are uncomfortable with motion, we get jetlagged, seasick, carsick or just plain injured. Yet our minds seem to be perfectly comfortable with the idea of moving at 50 or 500 mph. That is why we have a need for speed, our minds yearn to go beyond our bodies' limits.

It is a rush to hurtle down from an airplane at terminal velocity, or to be spearing the wind down the interstate with a blistering guitar solo piercing the heavens in the background.

Its a high that has no crash.

Wooo ooooo...

A great 2015 to yoooo....

Grief

I did not pine when I lost my love, for what is love save chemistry and comfort, it can be substituted.

I did not mourn when my hopes were crushed, for hope is mere fantasy, essential and unattainable, it can be always be regenerated.

There is no sorrow in my impending death, my friend, for death takes us all, this day or next.

What is death after all but an impetus to think and act, for only our ideas and deeds can live on, perpetuated.

No, it is only you who should grieve, you who are content with what you can buy, for you are the one who never lived, just existed.

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Written as a Five Sentence Fiction exercise at Lily McFerrin Writes. 

_______________________________________________________

An Insecure Writer

I came across this blog of an author that had a page dedicated to this loose community called the Insecure Writers Support Group. 

I need it. 

Even though it is probably useless. 

A writer is many things, none of which I understand fully. Am I a writer? I do not think so, not yet. I want to be a writer. I occasionally try to be a writer. But I am not one yet. I have not stopped anything in my life to write instead. Writing has not taken precedence over anything else. So I am a husband, a physicist, amateur programmer, and much more of a reader than a writer. But I would like to be a writer. So why don't I write?

Insecure is not an adjective I usually attach to myself. I am not insecure, I know I write well. I know I am not the next Nobel or Booker or Hugo, but I know I could be decent if I tried. I like to say I just don't have the time to write. It takes me so long to write a blog post, so long to edit and polish it, that I just cannot afford the time. Because I am trying to do all the other things that will 'secure' me a stable job that I like so that I can write when I can find the time. Which is never. Because I cannot drop everything and just write, what if no one wants to read it... what would I be then? An insecure writer? 

No one can change anything to help a writer, much less one in denial, feel less insecure. All they can do is start an imaginary support group which, if you look closely through the websites and badges and words of advice, really is just ... a reader.

And that is all a writer needs...

Dark Dream...

Looks can be deceiving...

A simple farm boy from tiny village... who knew what I would one day become.

Who knew my hunger would control my destiny...

My whole life is a blur... just yesterday it would seem, I was a soldier... fighting for my country...

Bullets like hellish rain... mortars crash like thunder, ironically, never in the same place twice...

A whole platoon... my men, my trusted men, men who would live and die at my command... blown to bits as the bunker collapsed on top of them... and me.

34 days... under the rubble.

34 days... with only my dead platoon for company.

34 days... without food or water.

Well... not entirely without food... my men, my trusted men, dead men... they kept me alive till the very end.

Focus now.

See through your target... look inside, see what 'she' is made of.

You would expect someone who does what I do for a living, to detach himself from his prey. Treat them like objects, a nameless mission. I don't... I always humanize my target, identify with her, love her, lust for her...

Its what amplifies the fun, the fun is in the chase, as they say. It makes her taste better. Unusual I know, but then so is my profession.

Watch her closely, and know what to expect. She knows what coming, and she is getting prepared. Watch her every step, every move, every stir... she can surprise you, but never let her baffle you.

I am back in the proverbial 'real world'.

Inducted with honor into a society that would be horrified if they knew all that I had done, all that I had seen.

I am not a patriot anymore... I am a monster now. A glutton for something much darker than food.

Don't judge me!! I am but a product of this society. A society of pretenses and excesses, where the most to gain from a commodity are the ones who decide its value, not the ones who create it. And it makes me mad... makes me want to feed off the rich and pretentious... laugh at their dead bored eyes as I feast on their fat...

I have no skill to create.. and I have no urge to learn. I am a fire, I can only consume.

And I am addicted. 34 nights in a bunker, eating the only thing available... Now I know no other food... I know no other feeling... except...

The decadent rush of devouring the most sinful food possible...

The vision of my mouth drenched dark as it would with wine, splashed across my face... yes I like to 'drink' when i feed

The guilt... that tortures me every night in memory of what I did... and the knowledge, that the only way to escape this guilt even for a little while, is to do it again.

Oh God.. stop.

Focus. You have her in your sights now. Sneak up behind her, close... closer.

Take a deep breath, feel her presence, inhale her essence, admire her, conquer her, but always respect her.

She knows what's coming, just not when. She is waiting, all dressed up and ready, for you.

Now, devour her.

"Mademoiselle...

She i... ahem... the dark chocolate souffle is delicious, a work of art indeed. The hint of vanilla, very nice touch. And oh, the raisins... please have a dozen crates sent to my home for further analysis."

Ah, my men, my trusted men... and the boxes of assorted chocolate protein bars they sneaked in.

Who would have thought my taste buds would be so refined?

A simple farm boy from tiny village... who knew that I would one day become... a chocolate taster.

Looks can be deceiving...

A Decade of Procrastination

Fear not, for the decade of procrastination is past us.
The new millenium brought in a new age, an age of boredom, inertia and morbid indifference.
It ends now.
I resolve.
To blog.


Reasonably regularly.

Reminiscing - the gone, the old and the fuzzy

Thought I'd have a bath today... long have I foreseen the day of the Bath. Let it be today.

Open my cupboard. A big bag. ABSOLUT. JAMESON. Shout out to me.

Stop.

Think for a moment.

Reminisce.

Mood Indigo 2005.

The greatest festival on Earth.

The single best week of my life.

Not THE beginning... but certainly A beginning. (cant you tell that line is stolen... I aint that good)

Have you ever felt like you're not really sure whether you are awake.... or still dreaming? (Steal my words, I deserve it.)

Is not knowing what to say the same as not knowing? (Put me in jail for Grand Theft Auto...)

If you dont remember the past... how is it any different from a dream?

Pieces of a memory... strung like beads, rather like newspaper clippings of a long gone serial killer's excursions... You know he is real and only human, but behind the wall of time n fading memories, perforated by the peepholes of evanescent public interest, he becomes a legend. Moving through shadow, a wisp... the Shadow himself, incarnate, invincible.

Pieces of a memory. Like the ragged beggar who just refuses to die... Till you begin to wish he wouldnt ever. So that when he does die, he will be resurrected in your memory as the hero. The martyr. The Light himself, incarnate, doomed to bear your sins.

Pieces of a memory. The smaller the holes, the more glorious the view. The less you can see... the more you can imagine.

Slam down the phone... Dude! Fuck Shaan, Lets drink!

Have a small leaky plastic glass of beer... and please dont puke in public.

Dude, what the fuck are we doin in the girls hostel? The girls dont care, what the fuck's your problem?

Dude, isn't this the first time you had a drink?No man, this is the first time I ever had a drink.

Sugar gets you high... so does a C10 and RS. And I aint responsible for I might do tonight.

And remember people, smoking is injurious to health.

Pieces of a memory. The holes are small enough.

Mood Indigo 2005.

The greatest festival on Earth.

The single best week of my life.

Not THE beginning... but certainly A beginning.

I think I have heard all this before. Am I awake...or still dreaming?

Goodnight.

Do You Want To Take A Personality Quiz....??

What Is Love....??

How Much Is Too Much....??

Can A Man Change His Destiny....??

Am I A Totallll Idiot...???

Why Do I Think Of Such Shitty Questions....??

Why Cant I Stop Thinking About My life And Start Doing Stuff....??

Is This Blog Mocking Me....??

Why Is It Repeating Everything I Say....??

Why Cant I Just Stop Typing....??

How Can I Be Mocking Myself....??

Is This Conversation Going Anywhere....??

Is This Even A Conversation....??

Do Any Of These Questions Have a Straight Forward Answer (Am I A Totalllll Idiot) ....??




Do I Have A Love Of The Rhetoric ....???

LIFE HURTS!!

I am sick.

I am sick.

How could it be?

I am sick.

i have a tablet to eat every morning and a syrup to drink thrice a day....
the first time any medicines have entered my room....
i went to the hospital for the first time since my jaundice in 9th standard....going for pink slip excuse to bunk classes at iit not counted.
and iv been sick for 4 straight days....

i am SICK.

Stomach hurts.Love Hurts.Life Hurts.
Head aches.Heart Aches.Pan Cakes.
Muscle Cramp.Stomach Cramp.Leg Cramp.
Weakness.Meekness.Bleakness.
Fever Cold.Getting Old.Feeling Cold.

Lonely.....:(

My friends are far away in hostel 4.
My sweetheart is 200kms away in Pune.
My friends at home would be a 1000 kms away.
My parents,well they are in Europe right now,a continent away.

LIFE HURTS.

This room is all iv got,this bed is all that's mine,this comp is my only mode of communication,this blog is all that i can talk to through it.

Are you listening?

An Interesting Day!!!

a new day....a new start....a new beginning.....a new life.....
the young and hopeless dream every other song on the radio speaks of....

same alarm on the same phone that i cant hear......every morning.....
bunked my first lecture .......just like every other day....

the same apathy towards education...the same reluctance of submitting to it.....the same resignation following the familiar realisation of the futility of the resistance.....

the same drawl in my step....the same sluggish gait.

the same senior who i thinks i got drunk last night too.......the same condescending glares....

the same foul fowl that fouls the bowl everyday....

the same slow trudge to class....

the same slap on the same wrist by the same misguided proffessor......dont they ever learn....

the same smirks by the same guys.....the same giggles by the same females,provoking my favourite response......nothing.

same psychopathic prof on a pedantic self prophecised campaign to impart meaningless education to scores of uninterested and incompetent students ......

I DONT BELONG HERE................

same faded mossy blight on the same wall that interests me more......a revolting sight.....just like it was yesterday.....except......wait....its not there.

something changed....this class isnt familiar anymore....the clock too slow...my mind too fast...my life too short...my vision too blurry....the voices too loud....and everyone too quiet....the people too inert...the shadows too furtive....the eyes too piercing...the glances too fleeting....
something's wrong......the truman show.....no.....
my life is not a movie...movie.....i shud do that....watch a movie.

i need my room...my recluse....my retreat...my room.

i need my music....my nectar...my elixir...my blood....my mind....my music.

i need my blog ...my distract...my decoy from life....my alternate reality...my illusion...my blog.






aaaaaaaahhhh!!!!!!peace.

A Day In The Life Of.......Me.