Borrowed Time.

Crumbled pages lie silently at the corner of the room as the ink went dry, the thoughts astray. The mind was a fighting a war within itself. The heart, well it did it’s job, without a care in the world. The walls absorbed the silent screams. The prayers resonated in the enclosure, breathing the aroma of its depth and finally settling at a nice corner of the room. While the night danced in the glory of the dark, the silence prevailed in the epiphany of the mind and all around. ” Tick. Tock. Tick. “

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The echoes of pain glorified the dark corners of the ignited mind. What was wrong? What was happening? Questions piled up, like the torn off pages flickering in the silent monotony of the cold breeze which had the half laden thoughts of the days not yet come.

Words. An anagram playing in the multitude of emotions, thoughts and whatnot. A random apprehension of a sophisticated mind. Why are they so far away? Why can’t they come closer? What do they mean? Why don’t they make sense? Is this the right script? Does this reach your heart?
He stared at the mirror long. He tried to look into himself, through the very fragments that kept him together, intact, as broken as he might be inside. He wanted to see what was inside of him, how broken can a person be. He wanted to see what he was made of, whether the broken memories ever heal. He was searching for something within himself, something he felt missing. He was not sure what. He was not sure why. There were questions that haunted, haunted as the answers were just more questions.

Letter. They were letters that hold the story never to be seen, never to be adapted, never to be lived. A letter, which was a warning, an indication of what went wrong. A foreword to the people to tread carefully. He had carefully handcrafted it, wrote the best god damn letter he ever could. He spoke of the misery, he spoke of the lost self, he spoke of great many deals. He ended the letter with a farewell. It was his last letter signed off with a “I am sorry, Good Bye”.

Here he was again, 10 years later contemplating over the same letter, still broken, still finding his way, still trying to perfect his last letter. The time was a factor that stopped for him a decade ago. He was a lifelessly alive, stuck on the past notion, not moving an inch forward. He tried to end it, end it all, the agony, the pain, the disappointment, and in the end even his life. Time, for him was a reminiscent.

He was living on borrowed time.
The time which is not his.

______

Wake me up.

The sun kissed the soft corners of the room, as the birds chirped in their melody, lamenting the spirits of the sleepy mind to a fresh start. It was a beautiful morning, a little bright, but just the right kind of bright; a little warm, just enough to make the skin feel alive; a little soft, for the eyes to let them enjoy the beauty in it’s full glory. It was like any other morning, but this was a little special one.

I’m a victim of my mistakes. Or may be it’s just me.

If you want something from heart, the whole universe conspires in helping you achieve it“, they said. How beautiful is this message? How blindly he felt it was real, true? How blindly he wished and wished and wished for something to happen? Oh wait, he heard whispers going around. “Wishing doesn’t help. You have to make an effort. You have to try”. He did try. A couple too many times. Because again, there they were saying some stupid inspiration stuff again,”Try and try and you will succeed.“. They make all of these seem so easy, make it like a walk in the park. And well what do you know, he did try. He really did. But may be, may be it wasn’t enough. May be his will power was weak. Or may be perhaps, he was a little too scared. Or perhaps, deep down may be he didn’t wish it wholly from heart. But they never stopped, never stopped saying mind boggling stupid inspirational shit, again. So, resorting to what they do best, they said, “God helps one who helps themselves“. That makes sense, doesn’t it? God created us. And in a matter of speaking he is partly responsible for us. Hence, after exhausting all other viable options, he turned to God. Oh the almighty creator. Whom else could I turn to?  God fulfills your wishes, another idiot blurted out quoting some lines from a story book. And the irony is that people believed him and the story book. They called him the prophet and the book the holy book. If great many people believed, then it had to be true. How can so many people be wrong? How can so many people be blind? He didn’t realize to ask one question : How can so many people have their trust in someone whom they haven’t even met, while they demand proof for every other thing starting from their own identity. They would call you an impostor if you didn’t have an ID on you.

But in all retrospect, he believed in that story book, may be it was because of the years of people constantly telling over and over again about the stories and quoting the lines from the book in their prayers.. That’s why he knelt down and prayed. He even cried and prayed a little more. He promised to sacrifice something that was very close to him, like the politicians have always promised us. Yes, he broke the promise, a million times over. And at every hurdle he faced, he put up the same promises for the things he wanted.

Wake me up, or may be don’t.

Perhaps, he was asking too many things. May be God keeps a track of the wishes to be fulfilled per person and after the expiration of the limit, there’s nothing he could do, even if you sacrificed a human or the blood of the virgin, which would again have to be him. God doesn’t two shits about that. Anyhow, he calmed himself down and prayed for just one thing. He prayed for one thing over and over and over. He was getting furious at God for ignoring his concerns. This was a serious issue. Why isn’t God paying any attention? Why isn’t God helping him in any way? The questions that haunted him all day and night.

So, he tried again the other night, like the last couple nights. He kept trying. And every time he fell short. He tried great many different things. But, he fell gravely short. Because every time he tried, he woke the other day. He saw another sunrise where the sun kisses the soft corners of the room, where the birds chirp in their melody, lamenting the spirits of the sleepy mind to a fresh start, where it seems to be a beautiful morning, a little bright, just the right kind of bright; a little warm, just enough to make the skin feel alive; a little soft that lets to enjoy the beauty in it’s full glory. It was like any other morning, another beautiful morning, that didn’t look beautiful. Because, he was still alive.

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Help me help.

There is this sinking feeling, that drowns us into suffocation where we strive to breathe, that engulfs me into this embrace, a lot like darkness. Yes, darkness, my old friend. No matter what we do, how much we try to fight, we feel tied down, held down. But, but there is light, there always is. We see it at the end of the tunnel, a vibrant collision of bright and shining. We want to reach for it. We want to get out of this darkness, this suffocation, this struggle for life, this fear. And we see this light, so close yet so far, slowly diminishing, slowly fading. But we are drowning, sinking in this quicksand that pulls us down into this bottomless pit, struggling with all our might, yet feeling completely helpless, useless.

I am angry because I am helpless.
– Ξniɢma

I just read the other day another rape incident, not a day after that mass molestation. This is shocking. This is beyond normal. This is going out of control. And I am agitated. My mind is not in one piece. I was at work and I was trying to focus on my work as I wanted some things taken care of. I got distracted with the news that I came across as I scrolled the Facebook timeline. I tried to avoid it, like I have avoided all my problems, like every important thing that mattered I have avoided, I wanted to be that dumb guy who doesn’t understand what is going on when the whole group are laughing and discussing about something. I tried to be that asshole who would just scroll down without flinching an eye and passing a comment “Nothing new“. I tried my best to be ignorant like I had been ignoring the calls from my relatives. But I was drawn to it. Why? I had to know. Why was this pulling me towards it? I didn’t even go out to catch Pokémons while the whole world rejoiced on each Pokemon they collected. I was not drawn to the girl on whom I had crush on for as long as I can remember when she sent a text. What the hell was it, then? I did what I usually don’t know but do all the time – Psychoanalysis!

Was it the pain? Was it the suffering? Was it the inhumanity? What was it?  I am human after all. I too have a few weakness. I t was then I realized that I was drawn to the helplessness. I was drawn to them all – the pain, the suffering.

As I sit somewhat-comfortably in my almost-perfectly cushioned bed after have adjusted the pillows to my favor to rest my back and try to express what I am feeling, I may be telling I am angry, agitated, pissed, blood boiling and everything hyper, but in the end what am I doing? What am I contributing to the cause? How can this little-angry write up about my anger change something, someone?

It agitated me quite a bit to even think about it. We can debate all we want about the problems we have , the things we can do , the things we should do, go on candle light marches in remembrance, stage a protest outside some government institute, break a few windows, burn a few buses, or may be not and all this while we think we are doing a good thing, trying our part in bringing about the change that we so badly need. Or even better we write about the underlying problem, the cause, the reason and while we are laying out the consequences and what we should do, what others should do, what the government we  elected must do. We would go on and write about the problems of the country, the deranged people shouting in CAPITAL LETTERS for the emphasis and also because we are agitated and angry and pissed and outraged. We hope that the letters we write, the articles we publish and the stories we scribble with the carefully structured sentences and curbing the Fuck curse words will reach the people and somehow it will bring a change, somehow it will give them a question to ponder over their actions, somehow that story just might change the people.

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But we are human. No, let me rephrase. We are assholes. We follow blind leaders and illiterate psychopaths. Have you ever wondered that IAS exams that we write are so tough to crack and you know what happens to the people who pass them? They work for some 5th standard fail politician. Even with all the aspirations to bring about the change on a small scale is just sidetracked. How are the politicians so illiterate. You want growth. Elect people who can take the challenge. Not someone who are looking to control and oppress. Oh, yes the speeches are always great because they have been drafted with a degree, a MBA one perhaps.

The underlying issue stays the same. We hope that people would change, the concerned officials will take control and bring drastic reforms in. But let’s get one thing clear, there are still a few assholes out there who can’t be changed no matter what you do. Don’t blame it on illiteracy. Everyone learns, in some way or the other. Just that one are hard core assholes who refuse to learn, who refuse to change their way. I don’t understand their stubbornness. They could use this stubbornness to do something good. And the problem still continues.

I am not doing a great thing here by voicing out my thoughts. And that’s what bothers me the most. I am not doing anything. I want to do something to change all this and not give people a chance to even talk about these incidents. But, I am helpless, utterly helpless.

Can you help me to help?
Please?
 

__

Ξniɢma

The picture quotes are borrowed from Quotefancy

Twenty Seventeen!

 

A silent breeze swept past me, like a silent shadow in the night. A calm hush of the noise like a distant murmur sunk in the shadows behind me. The muted world stood in silence in the warm embrace of the night, comforting yet missing something. An unspeakable void that kept haunting the silent corners of the mind. I stared at the sky above me to immerse myself in the effervescence of the dark night. Somehow, this darkness never felt so dark. It was my comfort, my solace to the agitation, my safe harbour. I continued staring at the sky above. Perhaps, I was looking for a sign, that was long-lost on me. Or perhaps I just wanted to embrace this moment.

Fireworks. The figments of small and brighter lights filled the sky. The man-made stars that danced with symphony in their agility. Shining in their ever so bright clamour; so close and ever so beautiful. The celebration of sorts in the sky, mesmerizing the world below and the universe beyond. Ah, what a sight it was. This moment was too perfect to be true. I curbed my urge to pinch myself and wake me from my slumber, if at all it was. I gradually sunk in the moment, reminiscing the dreams of yesteryear, the present and hopes as I stared and communicated with the sky above in silence. The million stars that have been there for me in thick and thin, in happiness and sadness, when no one else was. As I embraced my inner inhibitions and the warmth of the hopes, I could hear cheer, as a distant noise reverberating so close to me.

Excitement. The cheer slowly started to build up and resonated in the whole atmosphere. There were people everywhereand I had been at the middle of this crowd. But somehow, even though I was there at the center of thousands of people, there was a moment, a moment when everything around blurred, the people, their chatter, their cheer, the noise, everything was a distane echo and I was just alone for miles away. I was romancing the air, filled with my desires and hope, embracing the inhibitions; and was at peace staring at the multitude of stars that spread across the horizon slowly getting draped in fireworks. But this crowd, this humongous crowd that cheered so loud that I couldn’t even hear my own thoughts.

I woke up slowly from my slumber to see the happy faces, smiling, staring at the sky above, a little like I was, perhaps contemplating the year the passed by and making new dreams and hope as they kissed their loved ones. I stood in muted silence as the  crowd sunk into celebrations, the onset of yet another glorious year, with renowned hopes and determination. All soulful people walked around with happiness radiating from them, not just that usual happiness, but the sort that comes from the heart, that’s just too serene to watch.

I stood there amidst all the chaos, contemplating the happy crowd as they disappeared into the background. That’s when I caught a glimpse of my own reflection, in its absolute contrast. As reality slowly sunk in, the shattered dreams echoed in the reminiscence of the mind, the mind went wary and the heart heavier. Everything blurred again, and suddenly there I was, alone, sinking in the ocean, trying to breathe, for one last time.

____

Happy New Year.
I hope you have a great year ahead and all your dreams be fulfilled.

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____

P.S. I am sorry, but someone said I was too negative, I was too pessimistic. I claimed myslf to be pessimistic. And no, I am not proving them right. I am just being myself.

Image Courtesy : Quote Fancy

Realization.

You time is my memory.
_____

What is it called which hurts the most? What is that simple thing that makes you realize your gravest mistake? Why is it that, it being just in front of our eyes we want to ignore? There are a lot of questions that whisper silently yet screaming in the head. Pain ah, man’s ultimate solitude. A fortress that we build in the name of pain and its outcome. Without pain, there is no gain. Someone said it and that humble someone is probably right. But how does it fall into place? How does it know when to fall in place? Time, a morbid concept of reality, tricky yet precious, at the same time.

Let me start by first apologizing to the people who apparently think that I am not good enough for being a friend. For the past 24 odd years, I never had the liberty of having a friend, let alone a best friend. There might be a reason to it, but it doesn’t need explaining. At the end of the day, I am still the same person I was a day ago, or a decade ago. I may have grown up or old but I have done with only me, I alone. People are fascinating beings. When I have spent a major chunk of my life being in the company of myself, there comes a time when one realizes to look around and most importantly look at the people around. It is even more moving when some of these people actually look back at you and spend some of their time with you. Time, that precious chunk of one’s life that once spent could never be taken back or changed or bargained for. Don’t you think it is precious? I do.

I had the luxury of meeting some of the amazing people here on blogosphere. I agree that I am not one of the most charming people who has a way with words, or a witty one, or as a matter of fact not even normal. I am just a plain old boring soul. Having said that I have come across some of the people who are just too amazing. I know that becoming a friend needs to meet certain criteria, which I was hoping to meet over the course of time. So, it began. The conversations. Be it comments, emails or WhatsApp chat, I was aiming to meet their checklist, having already checked my only point in my checklist which read as “Time“. If they could spare some of their time for me, that in itself is such a big thing. But, I made a mistake of assuming.

I have traveled places all my childhood, not by choice but by compulsion. This should have been an added bonus, but this somehow shut be out. It is always not easy to adjust to the new environment, new people, their habits, their way of expressing. I have seen it all and have slowly adapted to each one. During all this, this coping and matching their tempo, the level of understanding, something in me snapped which made sure that I was uber cautious of the people around me, about what to say and what not to say. This dilemma slowly set to a conclusion that it is better not to speak than say something and make a fool of myself. This became quite difficult for people to adjust to me, and I to them. Eventually, I became my own company and the friendship days became just a namesake day to wish people whom I apparently knew also called as classmates, and vice versa.

Recently, I had met some new people – at work and online here through blogs. All of them are way too amazing people. Then came the first Sunday of August, which we all know what it is. So, I waited to check if anyone considered me in their list, whether I was able to cross off their check

.boxes. It was at the end of the day that I realized that I still have a long way to go. But, before this I did something. As I have already mentioned that my criteria has just one checkbox and it’s checked for most people. So, I made a post for them. It’s not one of those heart warming posts that you might think, but it is something I like to cherish by mentioning the few people who have been a part of my journey through blogging. I spent the whole night drafting and redrafting and finally rambling something. It is not a great post, but it wasn’t all that bad either. I finally posted it and waited.

The whole of Friendship Day I was on a lookout for people I may know or might have heard of me, or probably might remember me, which was rare, but hope is a pitiful thing, isn’t it? After a whole day of contemplation and exasperation, I have finally manned up a bit and decided to invade their “friend-time”, so I sent out messages to people from my office and emails to the people I have been in contact with. And boy, was I surprised to see the responses.

  1. Who said I was your friend?
    A common courtesy of thank you would have sufficed. I didn’t ask for much. I was expecting anything more either. A simple “Thank you. Same to you too” could have just made my day. But well.
  2. The courteous friend :
    Thank you to you too.Courteous
  3. Validation :
    I guess I needed to be validated as well.Validation
  4. I don’t, really!
    So, I told this generous person to kindly read the blog post in which I have mentioned them, but who really cares anyway.

Probably, I got what I deserved. My sincere apologies for jumping into conclusions at the first sight of conversation. Hopefully, I will be more careful.

For Life.

The initial intention was to lay low, not make much noise, keep everything to myself and may be share some of my darkest inhibitions. I had friends on almost every social media. I am sorry, let me rephrase. There were people who knew me, mostly because I was that annoying guy abruptly invading their online space. I am an introvert by heart. I don’t mingle with people. As a matter of fact, God forbid, if I were caught by Police or I suddenly get into an extreme case of emergency, I have no one to call to. This is bad. This is very bad. Well, let’s some I don’t get to that phase. I know what you are thinking. I need to change my thinking. I need to get some friends on which I can count on. Well, if only I had that mind of yours, I would be at the top of the world, wait, that’s too cold up there, but somewhere top.

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I started off writing my blog mid of last year. I had a lot of things that I wanted to write about. I had letters that I used to write almost every single day. Most of the letters were just curses to the one and only supreme entity, because clearly I had…have issues. So, I tried to get down and all dirty. I did write a couple of posts and published, which were kind of very personal and horrible in all ways possible. Horrible, in the sense of if we are talking about it with the perspective of Life and where I stand. It was horrible letters. I had hoped that I will continue writing, but then I lost the enthusiasm of copying my slowly turning pale pages onto my blog. So, I decided to stick to normal routine of writing and probably meet some people from different wakes of life. I started following and reading quite a few people. I used to comment and always had the last comment even if the comment was blank, because people do get pissed off of a sticky guy poking too much. It didn’t seem to work either. It was then I decided to quit all this. But then I came across one profile where the author wanted to become penpals, which was my idea in the first place. So, like the weird guy I was, I poked the bear. I got the reply. So, that was the first person I met, who despite knowing did me a great favor. I was this close to giving up on the blog, but then the writer’s reply did what CPR does to a dying person. It revived my enthusiasm. I have had met some amazing people since then. I would like to dedicate this post in their favor. I am apologizing well in advance for what I am about to tell. I don’t know whether I am considered as a friend by the people who follow, I have always treasured the little conversations that happened. I said treasured because you gave your time for me. And I would never forget that. I am not entirely sure whether I would be qualified to be one among your long list of friends, but you guys definitely are.
Secretive Writer : As the name itself suggest secret, there is no doubt who the person is. The person in, Shhh, it’s a secret, (for a reason). The blogger who unknowningly pulled me out of the drowning sea. I would like to call her a friend, though I haven’t met her or even know her name.
Wandering Violet : The second secretive person, I have come across. But always a great sport. I piss her off a lot occasionally. Ok ok, I piss her off all the time. May be that’s why she ain’t reading my blog. But none the less, a great person. After having met this person (online, without a name), I have realized that it is possible to make friends without knowing each other and not having met either. Having said that perhaps one day I do get to meet this amazing person.
Darshith : I didn’t meet him or know him. I just came across him through his blog. He is kinda busy right now, and perhaps have completely forgotten me. But like I have said, I treasure each and every one.
Sathyaghan : The guy who almost stole my screen name for a post of his. Well, he actually did. But he didn’t steal. He was creative in his own way and happened to come up with something brilliant which matched my screen name. He is also the guy who thinks highly of me. I have tried to explain to him that I suck at writing, but he insists otherwise. I hope you guys agree with me and put some sense into this guy.
Infinity Magic : This person is amazing in her own way. However annoying and whatnot, I had some great time talking over emails. Pen Pals, my friend. Perhaps, not anymore. But we had our moment. May be, we will again.
Whimsical90 : Another amazing person I have met online and have influenced me in quite so many ways. Let me tell about this person a bit. Her being a girl and I being a guy did raise some red flags, because for starters I was anonymous, which is itself a no-no. But she was such a great sport. At one point, she felt that she wasn’t comfortable talking to a complete stranger. Oh and she wasn’t anonymous. So, I felt that as a friend(or may be not)…acquaintance, I should give her the opportunity, or perhaps she has the right to know who I was. But, I didn’t quite think that through or perhaps I overstepped some boundary, which I didn’t realize. My sincere apologies. Anyhow, she had been a great (ahem) friend and hopefully she will be now.
SevenThirtyAM : Some witty comment sparked inquisitive mind of a doctor-to-be to know the person behind the mask. I tried my best to evade the identity disclosure, because that’s what secret agents do. But I gave in. Girls, I tell you, have the power. So, I have pissed this person off like anything. But like always, she is always a great sport.
Aarzoo : I have come across her on the social media, Twitter. I had read her blog earlier, but didn’t get a chance to connect. One thing led to another, somehow and I now have another friend.
Pratishtha : Another sweet person I have come across on the blogosphere, who is currently not responding. May be, not in the friend-list anymore.
Aanchal : She uncle-zoned me, like literally uncle-zoned. I couldn’t believe she did that. I am not that old, for your information. She has nominated me for an challenge and I still haven’t taken it.
There are a lot of people I have come across but I have never got a chance to interact with them on a personal level. No, not very personal. But not other than the blog related posts or comments.
Kritika Vashist,  Roberta Pimentel, Akhila ( who has nominated me for the quote challenge which I still haven’t taken up. Sorry), Muskaan ( who has nominated me for the Liebster Award, which also wasn’t taken up. Sorry). Shambavi31 ( who has nominated me for One lovely award, which also I have’t taken up. Sorry again. I am such a terrible person.), Phoenix09, Honeyvicious, Pratyusha, Soumya MishraAbhijit ( who has given me a Blogger Recognition Award and also who doesn’t even remember me now), Vidisha Kaushik to name a few. And also each and every one who reads my blog, who comments, who reads but doesn’t leave a comment, who liked my posts, who likes my posts but doesn’t read it, who likes my comments on their blog, who replies to my comments on their blog, who likes my comments on their blog but doesn’t reply.
I mean to each and everyone “Happy Friendship Day”.

What can we have?

 

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He stared into her eyes. Something was different about them. They twinkled the first time she saw him and that charm was still alive as she spoke about the week that passed by. The week she was away and didn’t get a chance to meet. He wasn’t listening to her, mostly it was nods acknowledging her thoughts. He was just lost in her sparkling eyes, full of enthusiasm. The animated hands, the curls of her hair bouncing on the shoulder and her lips soothing him in the most beautiful voice he had ever known. She was extremely happy to see him and so was he.

_____________

She smiled as he made his way and sat beside her. He was grinning and she was too lost in his charming smile. There was something building in the air and both chose to ignore. They were scared what would happen if they really explored the uncharted air. They had forged this bond of friendship over the last year. To avoid any new feelings to rise up and also to keep him engaged for as long as she could, she talked about everything she did and couldn’t do over the last weekend. And while she was at it, she also gossiped about her friends and colleagues. He was listening carefully, laughing when necessary and sharing his opinion whenever he opined. Taking turns as the conversation led from one thing to another he narrated his series of events for the week staring deep into her eyes, “God, I missed her”, he said under his breath.

There was silence when they reached the point where everything that was at the top of mind was over. Now, to keep the conversation going on, they were slowly digging and finding new topics. She smiled as if she read his mind that they were out of topics as at stared into each other, completely forgetting what was around them, the noise fading in the background. He leans in a little, finding his cue, in an attempt to make his intention clear as a sweat developed at the corner of his forehead. He was a little scared that this might go completely sideways and that, and that could never end well. He knew for sure. Her mind already got another old gossip but then her thoughts fall short as she sees him lean in, his eyes drowning in anticipation and she got the message, loud and clear as she leaned in, which was more of a reflex.They stared into each others’ eyes for one whole moment, as the world faded behind them. The limelight was on them and it was dark all around as they breathed into each other. Their lips close to each other and still staring into each other’s eyes. breathing each other in. A moment later they slip into a bliss as they danced to the rhythm of their heart beats with the same passion they had for each other. Everything they had kept hidden for so long, finally spoke with the unison of a kiss the one emotion they were so scared to express. The concept of time was forgotten as they wrapped each other in the warm embrace of one another, speaking to each other with their eyes closed.

And then she tapped on his hand. She smiled as he stared into her eyes. She was far, unlike a second earlier. She tapped again on his hand and he traced her hand on hid with a bright ring shining in glory on her finger. His smile slowly faded as realization set in.

3 AM.

Disclaimer : Reasons why you shouldn’t go ahead :
1. You are younger than 18 years.
2. You have much better things to do, like watch TV or stalk someone.
3. You are going to make fun of me !

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There is an ardent niche regarding the intuition of man. What does a man (I mean Male) think about? What does he think when he is staring at the empty roads? What does he think when he sees a girl walk down the road? What does he think when the professor is giving a serious lecture on Higgs…SEX. Did I get your attention ? Who cares about Higgs Boson anyway?

Earlier this year, I got a text from a girl, a friend whom I have not met but she was in the same school as I. But she joined after I had left the high school. And since we had mutual friends and the fact that we both were writing blogs, it didn’t take long to get the conversation started. It was just normal conversations asking how either of us were doing and about how stupid the life had been and how to solve the problem with life. The solution was agreed upon that one need a billion bucks to get a normal life. But who had a million bucks? Not me apparently.

Anyway, one night after a cold day at office I get a text from her which made me sit upright :

I made out with him, again“. The guy she was referring to is her on-and-offboyfriend and she had talked about how impossible he had been becoming the last couple of weeks, but never was the talk about the intimate details, though I had suspected. Let’s just say that I haven’t in such conversations before. So, imagine what my response was ?
Oh ok“. Yes, I replied that. I had no idea how to respond to it as I never had such conversations. She went on to tell how many times it had happened. Now, this was getting awkward on my side. And the worst part was no details.

Now, lets back up a bit. This was getting intimate conversation and the good friend that I am, was lending my ear to pour all the baggage she was carrying. After all, what are friends for, right? And let me repeat, being the GOOD friend that I am, I didn’t pry on too much, I mean at all. I didn’t ask for details (which I must confess, I was really interested in). Nevertheless, no much details were shared and my “Oh okays” continued. My lame replies gave the much need suspicion.

You a virgin, aren’t you?”  broke my monotonous replies to “That obvious, huh ?“.  This didn’t come as much of a surprise to her. I guess I have sold myself as a too decent guy, even though we haven’t met. Nevertheless, she sets up a challenge for me to lose “it” before the year ends. Apparently, I was the only guy she knew who hasn’t done the ‘good’ deed. I laughed out loud for a few seconds staring at the screen and agreed as if it was as simple as buying a chocolate. Well, whom was I kidding? My chance of … ok, let’s not make it a point to embarrass myself than I already have. 

As months passed by, no action happened on my side while the adventures continued on the other end. “We had sex in the car“, I mean come on! Tell me every detail. How did this happen and tell everything. No, I didn’t say that. This apparently is on everybody wishlist. And like the nice stupid guy I am, I didn’t pry for the details. “I made out with my boss, at office”. The point being there was never any shortage of adventures on the other end. They were so frequent that guys started to bore her and she was already in plans to move to girls. “Dude, back off. There is already so much competition among boys, now if girls also join the race, what will happen to us?“.  Okay, let’s not talk about my story. Just don’t.

Imagine my surprise when I receive a text at 3AM and she starts talking about world war and world peace, which escalated to the philosophical preachings about life – What I should do to get a better perspective at life, how I should turn my life around by doing this and not doing that, bla bla bla. Apparently, she had joined Vipassana. I think that has helped her find her calling, may be. I have to get back on this on she is doing now.

Five things at the end of the story :
a. I am still at the same place where I had started, you know what I mean?
b. Don’t pass judgments on others lifestyle choice of living.
c. Whatever that Vipassana is, it sounds life changing ! If you are too frustrated about getting nothing, just join it. It involves no Internet, no phone, no social media, no Blogging, no reading my crap. Win-Win, right? 
d. The Picture Quote has nothing to do with the post, unless you find a relation.
e. I am the 3AM friend. Like you might have observed, I don’t judge or pry. I am open for HIRE !

Leave me alone.

I’m lost in the past, drowning in the memories. It’s dim. It’s stale. It’s a flickering light of yesterday, haunting, a constant reminder. It’s dark. It’s a freakin’ nightmare.

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The night fell into the silent abyss. The damp atmosphere hung in the air, that cold wind of the onset of winter blew. He settled at the end of the bar, contemplating, lost and deserted. His eyes were a million miles away, yet they spoke a story, sunk in the evening aroma of slow music and distant chatter. A thousabd thoughts exploded in his mind, relinquishing the past. the pupils dilated as the warmth of the drink slid past the burning throat. He never drank before. He didn’t realize he was drinking. He was too lost to care. His eyes fixated at the emptiness, still contemplating. Another sip. The past still resided at the peripheral. Another sip. The glass was empty. His ears caught a sweet voice, singing in the distant. He woke up from the past.

He was holding a glass, empty, a reminder of the past that was just forgotten. He eased his grip and let it free. “Leave me alone”, a voice shouted in his mind. The voice had been shouting to the pain that haunted. He got used to it like a lullaby, a painful one. Yet, it made its presence felt every day, every moment. The song became louder. It had been louder all along and he felt it’s presence with the words that surrounded the ambience.
…Let me heal the scars of yesterday,

The scars that have dug so deep,

Let me burn away the pain,

For I’m the phoenix rising from the ashes…”

He felt it making its way through him, digging the skin and reaching for the heart. The constant voice that haunted faded in the melody. Before he knew, he was sipping again and it went smooth this time. He saw her among the crowd under the limelight, staring at him from the distance, staring at him naked, staring at his naked soul, the eyes piercing the very fragments of pain, the past he had hid so well, she saw it all, every detail. He felt that pain drain away, delicately like the touch of the sun to the sea beyond the horizon. But then, the glass slipped from his hand, smashed against the floor as he was left vulnerable with the thousand pieces it broke into. The lights dimmed, the song ended and she was gone. He stood up, in search, but in vain.

“Leave me alone”, his mind shouted again to the voices that haunted again.