One of the simplest things we can do in our life is to sell our soul. To turn away from what our heart desires and allow everybody else in the world to dictate the terms of our life. From what we wear to how we greet to what we can laugh at to what we must jeer at – we let people control our lives, by forfeiting all rights of exercising our own mind. The society demands and demands, all the time veiling its true motives, and in order to belong, one by one we slowly give away bits of our soul. Years later we have not even reason enough left to understand that nothing of our soul is still with us, and we slowly join the same machinery in raping more youth of their confidence, their originality – with which they are meant to take us forward – and their spirit – the only weapon with which they can fight this battle.

For long I didn’t entirely understand the language my soul spoke. I complied with everything well-meaning adults demanded of me. I took up business studies because that’s what every ambitious person was doing, and because I was expected to take it up –
I went about it like a machine. From attending classes to submitting projects – I made no mistakes anywhere. And for happiness, I sought friends. Most of the friends let me down in the long run. But that’s another story. And then one fine day I was offered a job to write. It was the first time I didn’t turn to anyone to ask for advise, or to wonder if it was a respectable job (I have had to write one gossip too many), it was as if I truly heard the voice of my soul for the very first time. I withdrew from the second round of interviews of an HR firm, for which I’d qualified for, and took up the job. Ever since I have found my happiness in typing down words, giving shape to thoughts, attending world music concerts and art exhibitions and then in attempting to recapture the magic of the evening in time for my deadlines…. I am happiest when I am at work. Maybe my colleagues feel I don’t open up my soul to them, for I don’t gossip with them and curse old employees who’d subjected us to much pain because of their power games. And so they think I’m a little weird, am not one of them, for I don’t bend even when they reveal the insults that some had hurled at my integrity. That’s just it, they don’t understand that if join them in blaspheming the older colleagues, I would be proving them right. I would rather go chasing a new story and drown myself for hours in thoughts and feelings… I won’t barter my soul for becoming one of them. I don’t hate them, don’t intend to disrespect them, but would prefer if they let me be.

The problem is that you either join them, or they will join hands and crucify you. If you are not one of them, then you’re not fit to share the same earth with them. I love Aman for many reasons, one of which is for him having the courage to stand alone, for following reason, his mind, and keeping away from religious jazz which fail to ignite any faith in him. For refusing to do anything which fails to make sense to him. But now, in order to live my life with him, the world is dictating the terms and conditions to me. Conditions that I must meet, or else forego my claim to their Aman. They need me to be one of them. To lose my ideals, adopt theirs and become one of them. And this is where I hang today.

Nobody understands what I am fighting for. What gives me nightmares is if they will make me bend and kiss their feet… if they will make me sell my soul.

Students from my institute are taken for seminars to different countries around the world. Like everyone else in my company, I too have to accompany the students for these trips about once every year. This time I went to Helsinki and to Madrid and yep, I did make about 40 new friends… I wonder if it will ever stop being weird though. Had a guy trippin’ over me in the last trip, had another in this trip too… I so need an engagement ring! Showed the bunch how to go about the metros in Madrid… made it just in time for the feast of Madrid’s patron saint… Was happy to have a friend along with me for at least half of the trip…

I fixed up an interview with Ferran Adria for which I travelled 11 hours in a train to Figueras – the home of Salvador Dali – where I reached at about 9 in the morning. Had a lovely breakfast in a café, which was a few steps away from the railway station, and then I tried to understand the map so that I could head towards Dali’s museum. Tried going left, then retraced my steps and went the other way, unsure I went back again, a little further this time. Walked into a car rental shop and asked directions using signs and pointing to my destination on the map… Thankfully I understood the man and retraced my steps again, 10 more than my last attempt and I saw a street sign directing towards the museums in the city : ) A vegetable market in the open had people in this rather slow town shifting and shuffling from vendor to vendor. As usual only the candy stalls got my attention, but after some muddled-up reasoning in my head, I let them be and walked on. There were no signages at two cross roads, and the foolhardy me confidently selected a path and walked on. My guesses turned out to be all correct, if only it were a reality show and my guesses had won me a couple of lakhs! :P I was amazed to see Dali’s works. Awestruck, bewildered, I walked out with new respect for the man. Being one of those tourists who just cannot leave a place without picking up souvenirs, I ended up purchasing a tie, with very cool paintings of Dali’s for my bro-in-law : )

I got a cab from Figueras to take me to Roses, which was about 30kms away. A 40-something cabbie agreed to take me there, and strangely, I wasn’t nervous or afraid all this while.. considering I was alone and with just a couple of clues about how to get to Ferran’s restaurant. About 30 minutes later, and about 5 hours early for the interview, I reached the town at the outskirt of which is elBulli (Ferran’s restaurant). From the tourist centre I got myself a map, and for the nth time realised that I’m really bad with maps! It started raining and I found refuge under a garage door. A lifetime later the rain turned to mere drizzling and I walked on towards a fort like something. The entrance gate had a sign that didn’t allow entry for people from there. Considering the fort was mentioned in the tourist map, I reasoned that if I walked along the fort’s walls, I would soon find the entry gate. After walking for about 10 mins, I found myself walking along a highway, though still next to the fort! A car almost stopped next to me, I stared right ahead and ignored the 2 men gesturing at me from inside. Thankfully they moved on. Five minutes later an old man rode his bike up onto the pavement and came speeding towards me. He then took his tongue out and snarled at me! The man freaked me out. I realised I was not about to find the entry to the fort in this lifetime, but before I could turn around, it began to pour again, too hard and too strong for me to walk back immediately. So, I went ahead where a couple of buildings stood and found refuge before the entrance of building that had about 6 apartments. There I stood for about 20 minutes, and when a couple of the residents walked out without a smile or a reassuring hello I felt all creeped out again. I began making my way back as fast as I could and reached the city centre in less than 10 minutes. Small, weird town with such a pretty name. I regained my composure sipping on tea, and then went for a platter of kalamaris with renewed zest. I still had about three hours to while away…

It was afternoon and most of the shops were closed, siesta time I guessed. Found a lovely bag in one of the shops, it had a rose attached to it… : ) The narrow streets were dotted with shops on both sides, and just for that day, paintings had been made on the roads using flowers. Found my way to a church, which too was beautifully decorated with flowers. Unwilling to explore more, because of the afternoon’s incidents, I sat down on one of the benches that were placed a few metres away from the sea. An hour later I finally got up and got another cabbie to take me to elBulli. The road to elBulli was bewitching as it wound its way between green hills and the sea stretched out on one side through almost all of my way. An unassuming board indicated that I was at the world’s best restaurant, and shortly after with an interpreter by my side, I began interviewing the world’s best chef…

The story is out, it has a mention on the cover too. India Today’s lifestyle mag was quick to copy, and in its very next issue featured elBulli! : P Rat races, not interested in them, am nothing more than a piggy afterall :S

Saw a pic of mine, from 2005, look about 10kgs lighter than I am right now. It has motivated me to give up chocolates and jazz once more, and while I begun exercising with a lot of excitement, my work schedule made me miss on some days, and am now losing steam : (

It’s been donkey’s years since I last blogged. Written a million words in between, none though that meant much to me, for I’ve cherished most my ramblings on this blog. Having blocked this site from the sight of most, I guess I should’ve returned long ago, but I got too caught up in mourning the loss of a blogger’s life. Now it’s just me and this blog, almost like those retarded diaries with locks. Still, privacy is important, and a lock so much better than a bonfire.

I’m 24 now, and while the company I work with is also producing a movie with a similar title, I’ve been writing, editing away and learning how to manage a dozen superficial relationships. After I got bruised and battered by someone I was stupid enough to once hold very dear, I at first chose to shun just about everybody at my workplace. Simply cos I’ve been convinced that everybody here is a part of a rat race, and given an opportunity, will try to trip me, or rather, rip me. I get excited when I’m chasing a story, get a huge kick when a story comes out well. I’m not convinced I’m cut out to be a journo though. In time, maybe.

It seems pointless why someone would take a coin and drive it onto a car’s surface, and stop with their artistry only after they’ve mauled its face completely. Still, people do that. They claw upon the face, attempting to disfigure it.

I’ll be making friends with another 40 students in a week’s time. Time to learn some Spanish. Tortilla anyone?

Off-track thought - Do check out www.lifespice.in for some great lifestyle and luxury related news.

Step by step, heart to heart,
left right left,We all fall down like toy soldiers.
Bit by bit torn apart,
we never win,
But the battle wages on for toy soldiers.

...woke up with this song in my head... charting out stuff for work long before the sun peeped in to say good morning... *sigh* n then this song comes out of nowhere...

an oldie... wonder why i never posted it


Burnt by the heat of the sun yet again
The grotesque pain somewhere within
Wailing out into the darkness of the evening
Crying out his silent tears,
Slowly sinking into its arms.
Tired of grasping for strength,
The healing just does not begin.
Tomorrow might just be another day of war,
And I know not how many more wounds this soldier will take
If at all he will cling to hope and stand up straight.
Or will he give in,
Wailing his silent tears into the darkness of this night.

Pause.
Play!
Pause.
Why can't I just hit the stop button!
The same reel going over and over…
Not jaded, yet.

Dodging through the busses, cars and autos
Unscathed, not sure how,
For fatalism has just one drawback,
It leaves one on the driver’s seat, but with no control.
Pause…

…a few hours later
‘The General’ shoves me into my suit and latches on my seatbelt.
Cruising past the same ol’ beggars
Through the same lanes and potholes,
Tears over the same grievances
And laughter too seems simply so forced.

Not jaded, yet.
Hopefully just need to hit the eject button,
And throw in
An unused cassette.


* ‘The General’ is the song on my alarm :)

No black feathered ravens, but white feathered birds
Stoically perched, before the threshold
Of mourning mortals, and silent souls.
Stood long with my head bowed,
Until invited inside…

Soaking in the Grief,
Instinctively initiating chants in my head
Of a lord long ignored.

A day of endings this,
Of reminders and silent tears,
Ironically some for those not even known
And then some more,
For those who once meant all the world to me…
Misunderstandings, regrets,
And an unwilling acceptance
Of how all will now always be.