The importance of being earnest.. lol

We live in a generation where people are not classified by color, caste or religion; but on the content of their i-pods. The facebook profiles, the blackberry pins, the Friday night hangout spots. These seem to be the defining characteristics of an individual. What keeps us occupied: the latest sitcoms, the who’s doing who, the sms’s.

Why can’t we just come out of our self imposed cobwebs and let these things take care of themselves? Why can’t we maintain our individuality? Why does it matter whom we hang out with?

Children are coaxed into drugs; girls spend way too much time in preening themselves. On that note, men aren’t too far behind either.

Is it that difficult to find someone who admires a warm coffee on a nice evening? A conversation which engrosses you so bad you lose track of time? Feelings so intense that you notice the color of the sky? Smile so serene you feel like you are in a trance? Friends who make you laugh so bad you feel gasping for breath? The 3-am friends?

I feel it’s the innocence that is lost. Why do we miss our childhood so much? It’s because we needed no one to feel chirpy. A stranger was like an old friend. Everyone was warm and interested in you. No pretences, no hostility. A child doesn’t care whether you are dressed up bad or you are a geek. As I move thru the city streets, amidst the horns and all that jazz, a kid peeking from the back of a car, smiling at me for no apparent reason, makes me think of the past, the simpler times.

People tend to complicate things. They form unnecessary opinions; irrelevant issues give them sleepless nights. Seriously, whom are we trying to please? Everyone has grudges with someone or the other. Why can’t we break these shackles? When people would realize no amount of fairness creams would make them attractive? When boys comprehend that baggy jeans and loose clothing would not aid them in bedding the chick from the coffee place. When women appreciate that the guy who makes fun of her every time she comes to him with a broken heart and that-bastard-dumped-me stories is THE guy for her. And our parents comprehend the fact that if we wanted to clean our room, we would have done that days ago?

twisted ghalib

kya ye haqeeqat hai, ya hai ye ek ittefaaq

kya ye haqeeqat hai, ya hai ye ek ittefaaq

ki mai maru fart, aur tum sikodo naaq...

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ab to aisa hoga he nahi.. ki mai karu usse approach..

ab to aisa hoga he nahi.. ki mai karu usse approach..

mai banata hu joint, ja tu banale roach...

solitude

Harsh words
Wicked blows
Dark secrets
No one knows
Eyes are open
Hands are fisted
Deep inside, Im wound and twisted

So many tricks
So many lies
Too many whens
And too many whys
No ones special
No ones gifted
Im just me
Wound and twisted

The girl who knew me too much

People change
They betray
When hearts break
Why do we pray?

Miles away from i stand
bin a while since you left
but the wounds
oh the wounds are still fresh

opened my heart to you
and look what you did
why did you grow apart
it made me look so stupid

i saw through you
knew you wanted to leave
why did i try so hard?
why did i still believe?

Where were you?

Where were you
When everything was falling apart?
All my days
Were spent by the telephone
That never rang
And all I needed was a call
That never came

The White Tiger - My take

A lowly villager called Balram Halwai rises in the ranks when he becomes a chauffeur in an affluent family in the big city of Delhi. Nothing that goes on around him -- be it politics or family feuds -- escapes his eye, even as he feigns to be a meek servant. As the novel progresses, the homicidal chauffeur makes his own destiny, and becomes an entrepreneur.

The White Tiger tells the story of a side of India that we are all aware of, but we choose not to acknowledge or dwell upon it. We ignore it and move ahead with our lives. But this masterpiece from Man Booker-prize (2008) Winner, Aravind Adiga forces you to pay attention and ponder.

The theme of the book is sarcastic and aggressive. It is written in a series of letters to a Chinese leader who is about to visit India. The protagonist, Balram Halwai, is your run-of-the-mill, average villager who aspires to work in a big city some day and make it big in life. It portrays a tale of two India’s – An India which is “shining”: where wealth is flaunted extraordinarily and an India in “darkness”: where hundreds are faced everyday with the question of where would there next meal come from? The White Tiger is a penetrating piece of social commentary, attuned to the inequalities that persist despite India’s new prosperity.

Balram describes himself as a “half-baked” Indian, who worships uncountable number of gods and is proud of the way he “struggles” to become a successful entrepreneur. He works in a tea-shop where he comes to terms with how the world treats the poor. He is hired as chauffeur by a rich, affluent family. His three masters treat him disdainfully, yet he respects them for they are his employers. He observes how his master bribes the politicians, how he commands respect from all his minions and how everyone in this country dances to the tune of money. Balram decides to slay his master and runs off to a far-away city, Bangalore, where he becomes an entrepreneur. Balram justifies his employer’s murder as an act of class warfare. There is much talk in this novel of revolution and insurrection.

Adiga’s message isn’t subtle or novel, but Balram’s appealingly sardonic voice and acute observations of the social order are both winning and unsettling.

Balram’s violent bid for freedom is shocking. What, we’re left to ask, does it make him -- just another thug in India’s urban jungle or a revolutionary and idealist? It’s a sign of this book’s quality, as well as of its moral seriousness, that it keeps you guessing to the final page and beyond.

Show me how to live..

Living in the past never helps.. but it sure is comforting when your present is not what you wanted it to be..

But at the end of it all, life teaches you, that it is meant to be lived in the present.. the essence of life is realized when you go with the flow.. not clinging on to a past memory..

So how difficult is it? To forget and move on.. to let things pan out on themselves? Do what you have in hand, bond with those around you, and build new friendships, new relationships.

You would like to believe what you had was all you wanted from life, and in the process, this veil of past never allows you to cherish and appreciate what you have ahead of you.

At the end of it all, life comes a full circle, your present becomes your past.. and this vicious circle of living in the past never ends..

Reminds me of the Audioslave song.. Show me how to live!