Lady in White

Here's the song Savya and I wrote in Physics class

As i wallow in unsolicitated boredom,
The Jailor keeps me in my place.
Lost in coherence, lost in uncertainity,
With her i cannot keep up pace.

Listen to me, Lady in white,
Just get right out of my sight.
I can't bear you anymore,
Out, Out, you miserable whore.

As i sit peacefully writing this song,
You swoop down on me before long.
Torn to bits, shredded to pieces,
Thrown down into a bottomless recess.

Listen to me, Lady in white,
Just get right out of my sight.
I can't bear you anymore,
Out, Out, you miserable whore.

The time has come,
my freedom is imminent.
The Lady will leave and the messiah arrive,
and soon in boredom again we shall thrive.

Listen to me, Lady in white,
Just get right out of my sight,
I can't bear you anymore,
Out, Out, you miserable whore.

Abhijit

12.45 pm. It was a bright, hot summers day (yes, in february; manipal weather functions in inexplicable ways), the kind when all you want to do is strip naked and go for a swim, or slip into a pair of shorts and leisurely sprawl out on some beach, sipping a cold drink(or beer, if possible). I was sitting on my roommates bunk (since my own was messy beyond description and i had no inclination whatsoever to clear it up) after an unusually boring half-day when Dutta ran into the room, looking paler and more distressed than i had ever seen him before.

Hey man...bad news...Abhijit's dad just passed away.

For a moment, a split second, i thought it was another instance of the sick humour that Ayushman sometimes delights in. But the expression on his face and the sombrerity of the statement made convinced me otherwise. For a few seconds, i just sat there gaping at Dutta, with my mouth open like a goldfish. Then, it started to sink in.

Abhijit's dad just passed away...

The last said words seemed to linger in my mind, repeating like a stuck gramophone record. And with it came the full realisation...

Abhijit. Next-door neighbour. A rare combination of intelligence and diligence, coupled with a great character and sportsman's spirit. A decent guitarist and singer. A good friend.
He didn't do anything to beget this.

This i'll have to say, he took it like a man. No show of emotion, none at all. Perhaps that was because it didn't really register, or maybe because it sent him into shock, but i'd like to believe that it was a great attempt at self-control. He talked to his TG tonelessly, packed his bags, went to TC and bought a ticket to Calcutta, came back and read the Holy Bible all afternoon and evening. None of us dared to talk about what had happened. The only conversation we made was about how and when would he leave, and when would he come back, and whether or not he needed this-and-that and so on. The real issue remained unapproached.

Later as he boarded the bus that would take him to Bangalore, i pondered on how frail life is; here for this moment, gone the next. We should really make the most of what we have been given, not fool around like we usually do. Who knows what might happen next? Maybe we won't live to see tomorrow's sunrise. If that happens, i should have the satisfaction of knowing that my life served a purpose, made other people's lives better or helped someone to some degree. That purpose is yet not very clear to me; if i should die tomorow, i would have a hard time explaining what i did or what i intended to do that set me apart from the millions and billions of other ordinary people, milling about in the great mass of humanity.

This incident woke me up. The harsh realities of life are not a fairy tale. They do not exist only in other people's lives and in our imagination; they are as much a part of our life as that of our neighbours. From now on i will try to live each day as though it were my last.

How long that'll last, i have no clue.

Tag...I'm it!!!

Great. Finally i'm doing something worthwhile. The operative word being 'worthwhile'.

I'm thinking about...
The fight i witnessed today in the mess. A good example of lunacy, cowardice, bravery and real non-violence at the same instant.
How i would love to perform the Floyd song 'Time' onstage sometime.
and...someone.


I said...
Nothing. Just remained transfixed to the spot. How cowardly.


I am...
Unpredictable. Weak willed. But hopefully someone who doesn't fit into a typecast.


I want to...
Get over with this damned thing as quickly as possible and then play Counter Strike.


I make with my hands...
Workshop models and Engineering Graphics drawings. The latter against my will.


I wish...
I could play like Hendrix. And that i had opted for Physics Hons. after my board. And that i could obliterate this post of the materialistic stuff i have written about. And loads of other things.


I cry...
WAY too much than a young man is expected to.


I hear...
Right now, Dire Straits.


I wonder...
At the breathtakingly scenic natural beauty of Manipal. Exhilarating, humbling and awe-inspiring all at once.


I regret...
A lot of stuff. Including my expertise at the ability to procrastinate and making a certain somebody's life at school a living hell.


I confuse...
Birthdays, and dates in general.


I dance...
Never.


I sing...
Whenever i feel like, without caring about who is listening. And mostly Classic rock.


I am not always...
A good friend to have.


I write...
Rarely. Only when i recieve some unpleasant external or internal stimulus.


I need...
To play Counter Strike. So excuse me, please.

Life

I have a button.
Its green and blue, red and brown,
Or any colour you like.

I have a button.
Its round, square, hexagonal, triangular,
Or any shape you like.

I have a button.

See, how i spin it round,
to and fro, up and down,
always in tune, always in time.

Oh! Its slipped through my outstretched palms and broken,
into a million quavering pieces.
I sit back dejected,
and like a jumbled-up jigsaw,
try to piece it back together.
By golly its hard, but i know i'll get it back.

Its Never Too Late

Its been about three weeks since i returned to Manipal. Three weeks of complete delectation, three weeks of shunning my course material, three weeks of fantasizing; in short three weeks utterly wasted. I doubt whether i have gone through any three weeks of my life after age ten without touching a single studybook; well, i have now. Its hard to find time for academics between Counter Strike, jamming, Gobor's "leettle" magazine, sleep and...other stuff.

Which reminds me of what Dutta told me sometime back; One should always know what one is doing with his time. Simply speaking, i don't. Counter Strike, jamming, "leetle" magazine, sleep and the other stuff i mentioned do not make up the twenty-four hours of my day, contradictory though it might sound.


Tired of lying in the sunshine, staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long, and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find, ten years have got behind you,
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.


I have always been this way. I have always whiled away my time or procrastinated, even though the realisation has been with me for quite a while. A flaw in my character, perhaps. This is probably the reason i get the feeling that i have never really lived up to my own expectations, never achieved what i could have.

Hope this doesn't continue for too long a time. I'll make sure it doesn't.