The Silence of My Voice

Hello. It's Day Twelve. The issue is we are least willing to give time to anything. And that's not what is becoming the wrong kind of habit people develop. It's becoming an excuse. I believe, given enough time, a person can love anything. I reckon, as 'settled' humans, we're too fearful to step of our mediocrity and try something new, we're callously falling into this pattern. Two days ago, I spoke of how easily I'd forgotten to look forward to doing something I absolutely loved. I'm going to run back through almost five years of this blog. The titles are links, and you're more than welcome to read either of them, any number of times. Stoner. It's been the longest series on my blog ever. Slightly more close to my heart than the rest, Stoner for me was a journey where I not only learned so much about people and relationships, but about myself also. For the longest of time, I reckon that would be a year, Stoner was a part of my routin...

Average people don't understand you and me. They don't have that ability. The ability to understand and perceive the world differently. Of course we have our dumbfuck moments. But they don't define us. I told you once that I remember everything you say. I wasn't lying, I do. Whatever you've ever said, done, how you've laughed, your expressions at almost every next thing - I remember it all. And somewhere in the darkness of my mind, I always will. You see, there's a point in everyone's life when they finally understand why they can't have a certain somebody in their lives. I've seen some not having been able to come to that point ever and perish over just that one person they could never have. Because sometimes people allow themselves to be reckoned pathetic when all they could have done instead was said let it be.   I miss you. I've wanted to tell you this everyday, without fail. It's hard missing you. But one thing I'm glad abou...

You and I, w e weren't made of love,   O r poems, or destiny, We just happened, cluelessly, blindly, All that made us up was faith, In giving, in talking, in sharing, Without even the blink of an eye, Such happenstances, D on't happen too often. In this world, That's often cold and dark, I find warmth in the thoughts of you, The fire to heat me,  To ignite me, Read me, Before the words fade away, In my pages, Read me, Before I take those pages, And light the faltering fire. Possibilities are a funny thing, sure. I wrote the second part at a time when things were new, changing. Ten parts later, things are still new, changing. And you're still the reason for them. Possibilities.  Love,  Ak.

I keep thinking constantly how sickening it is to be hanging in the middle of loving and forgetting someone. And by sickening, I don't mean morbid, but more like an illness. It starts affecting you bit by bit like cold, sores your throat, numbs your ears, and then gradually as the virus spreads, you take to bed. The situation is somewhat similar. You never know how, and when it'll get its hands on you eventually, and suck you dry. And all you're left with are unanswerable questions. I don't assume they're as unanswerable, as much questionable they can be.  WHen you suck a person dry, you'll never realise how much of them you've taken away from the person. Because not everyone is courageous enough to trust, and not everyone is brave enough to move over the pain. If you couldn't fuel their beliefs, do not give them further reason to not trust again. Do not make them as cold as you. Give them answers. Even if they're angelic enough to not question an...

What you are and what I am, is not very different.  Each time I open up this space to write to/about you, I end up at a shortage of words to put to my feelings, where what I'm feeling inside is a calamity. You've always had that effect on me. What you are is no one. I still, to date, think where I went wrong. Sure, you stated otherwise, insisting on taking the blame for the entire hoola-hoop. But you have to understand, that what you felt, was a consequence of my doing. When I think of all the times I spent talking to you all day and night, it seems like a different time altogether. The velvet of your voice, our laughs, arguments, Skype conversations. It's almost like I can smell your perfume from the last time we met.  I'm lost. Effin-motherfucking-lost. You were my new poem.  Fragmented love,  Ak.

It's your day man. Yes, you're awesome, and yes, you're pretty amazing, Tiny-Stoned-Egghead. I never have had the better things to say when I should, actually. But you're one those people who've always known where to go if you wanted to know more.  You're a sweetheart. You always take out time to listen to others' problems before you come to terms to sharing yours. What the hell! You just don't ever share yours. Sometimes, well. Psst! Probably you had me since the beginning. Even before you gave me your number for help in Structures. Well, that didn't turn out to be so good. But, you did!  You have amazing eyes. I know that's a first, and I know I've said that before too, BUT, I love them. Your dismissal has actually been one of the many pulling factors. I-know-you-don't-give-a-shit? Yeah, yeah, I know. It's cute when you do. See? Not my fault. The cute comes out automatically. You should accept it now as a trait.  The amount o...

So what if things go wrong? If they screw up? If people end up being the wrong one? So, simply what? Let's go back to the start. Let's go back to knowing one another as a musician and a writer only. To having only a social network relationship. To not knowing anything  about each other. To never have gone beyond a Facebook chat. To never have talked about beyond music, books and work. To never have drunk-dialled/ texted each other. Hell, to never have even had each others' number. Let's add each other again on Facebook. Let's strike a first conversation again. Let's bitch about work load, and teachers again. Let's unhear all the music we shared. Let's untalk all the dumbfuck bikinis and cars and artists and bands and egghead conversations.  Let's not smoke up after my design jury. Let's unlearn each others' secrets. Let's un-christen all the nicknames we had. Let's not think about all the times we tried making the...

Ego has never been my strong point. I'm high-headed, yes. But if an apology is required out of me to set things straight, I'll do it nonetheless, regardless of the fact that I might be at fault. But, lately, I've discovered I might just have a slight ray of ego cracking through somewhere. Because believe it or not, I've refrained a million times from establishing any sort of contact thinking if you had to, you would already have - of course, the most absurd of reasons to give up on things easily. Well, that's a cheeky way of giving up, rather being egoistic. I've been simply very narked recently, wouldn't deny that. You've been egoistic too. Yeah, really. Not that I've been leading you to read Stoner so that you could actually infer what's been going on, but still you should keep a check. It's good manners, you know.  There was a point when we were completely open to each other, absolutely vulnerable, yet at comfort with that knowledge. Be...

Nostalgia is a bitch. Standing in a moment you never want to terminate, will never seem like something you'd crave for in the future. It is never easy to forget things. Forget easy. It's not possible to forget the past. Only its soreness passes by gradually, and you carry that lull ache all your life with you - having it reside in your mind constantly, without parting even a single ray of consideration to it. But after a point of time it grows along with you, like a child. Inconspicuously, it'll pinch you in different parts. And it'll parch you with the thirst of satiating that one longing that's been burdening you.  As for me, I'm sometimes do-it-now and sometimes wait-for-it kind of person. On and off. But I'm mostly the keep-it-to-yourself kind. But one thing I'm definitely not is regretful. I never reflect any manner of remorse on my doing, whatsoever.  So the thing is... That I don't want to look back and wonder what if I would have done t...

You know what is the worst thing in the world? Habit. Habits are stubborn. They never listen to the Best of you. They're dangerous; as dangerous as equally enticing. It's hard attaining a new habit, but even harder letting go of the need to feed your life off of it. I've seen people devastating themselves because of things/people they've grown habitual of. And for all we know, it's not exactly the next best prettiest sight after a clear night sky. One thing I'd promised myself was that no matter how much it might ever hurt me, I'll be with a person because I would want to be, and not because I'm habitual of him. And through the course of having our first conversation to becoming friends to becoming really close friends to becoming really close and finally to getting almost together, I'd find something new about you everyday. Something new, that would give me perfectly new ways to figure you out everyday. I wouldn't exactly claim to be lonely pri...

We all talk of love in manners only we understand. Or, expect a certain somebody to understand. I'm not a fan of expressions. Even a knowing look does it for me. I'd misconstrued the value of expressions with someone you love, or as they say. I've never been much for saying. Talking, yes, but not saying. Talking can take you everywhere. But it is only when you say, you express. Wrong pick. [Note to self: Never say to people you even think might interpret you in the least possible manner.] But withholding myself from saying had gotten me into a problem right about a couple of times. Lesson learnt. So, what do you do the next time around? You say. And you end up saying a lot. And said so much that you literally map out your entire self in front of them. And you can see reciprocations flying through the thick wind, fighting the cables, right through to your inbox. And for once you're glad you decided to do otherwise than earlier. And you're happy for once; even people...

Being speechless is a phenomenon. It means a lot more than how shallow the statement actually sounds, or rather how shallow people have made it sound over time. It clearly defines one's power over the other to render them bound. A power that compels them to talk in silence rather than words. As much as I wanted to believe the contrary, I'm not a powerful woman at that. My words say a lot more for me than I actually feel. And that certainly has left people speechlessly confused, because they read something and see something. Not that they never have had an unwanted impact, they did. And that's where the hard part lies. Actions are amendable, words aren't. The wounds they cause run much deeper. However hard tried, you can never say just the appropriate amount of things with an equal measure of appropriate words required to support your feelings. We either under-say or over-say, but we just can't say. A lot we say depends on our impulse, something that we can perfectl...

Remains of the being, Haunting each attempt to relive, Battered wits, no trails left behind, Walking this long now,  The effort seems wasted,  You seem wasted. Beaten, The superficiality of it all, Excelling, taunting,  Robbing you off you, Bartering away,  The very soul that was touched. The stolen glances, All a cliché to her numb mind, The imperfections, evident, It shone, he shone,  Like gold against sand, Looking of dew, and,  Smelling of light. She needed the bartered soul, For it to be touched again, Long had she forgotten, Her deal with the devil,  Yes, she wept,  For there was nothing, That could be warmed in her. Holding her by the shoulders,  He grasped the play of her vision, He parted a part, Of his being with her, Walking on, as life gave way, Assured, She had a part of him. See you around, fellas. Happy, for once, Ak.

You know the time you feel you're your only person, and your head can't be repeated and you're the only zombie that there is? I'm not a simple and easy person to deal with. People find awesomeness by some God's wish to be enticing. And what this awesomeness is supposed to be imitating I don't know. Probably magnetic. But one thing I've learnt is that the more people crib, and complicate themselves, the more people are drawn towards them.And trust me, I've seen some brilliant examples of it - live. I don't consider a lot among our race to be living with the same mindset as me. And even lesser than that who actually understand it. For someone like me who's amazingly friends with a lot of people, I'm astonishingly lonely and aloof and highly insecure. And this has N number of times affected my judgements, and clouded my vision. But somebody, with a mind equally weird, with an attitude equally cynic, and a heart equally turbulent, made me realize...