Sir, you’ve walked in at the wrong time; The Bar is closed!

None’s written a poem for him he said… well, I’m glad I got to be your first! 😉

This isn’t something one would get welled up reading, But this one’s for and of you, nonetheless!The door cracks open,

Dust and splinters, carpeting the floor.

The glass panels all in a downpour,

The shattered crystals shining in a gazillion

I look up through tears, the bottom of soda bottle and mumble,

Sir, you’ve walked in at the wrong time,

The Bar is closed!

Warm smile, inconspicuous looks

Smart and witty, just the way he should

Must be a drug dealer in disguise, I thought,

Charmer, of some sort

I take a stance, whoever he might be –

Sir, you’ve walked in at the wrong time,

The Bar is closed!

He takes a step further, Cool, Poised and Calm.

Sits down by the wrecks, and starts to read my palm.

His grip tight, his smile so warm, perfect.

If some looks could kill, this would resurrect!

His words were like magic, I stutter,

Sir… Sir, you’ve walked in at the wrong time,

The Bar is closed!

“Devastation tiling itself stout, in gloom,

Splinters of dreams piercing onto the new, making it trivial,

And right now, a support to stand by, is all I consider crucial –

To help repair the damage, bring life back to normal, at least, almost”

You’re not the support sir, you’re a mere drug.

The custom mix sort, you’d still get me weary.

You’re a drug that eases the pain, but doesn’t cure any,

Killing me some day, fraternizing in my blood.

And about that someday, I’d skip thinking as much as I could.

Still, Sir, you’ve walked in at the wrong time,

The Bar is closed, for renovation!

 

I smile, looking hopeful Nonetheless,

“Now if you might close the door behind

Sir, You could work your magic in here. Us, combined!”

Can’t help falling in love with you… Again!

♫  Wise men say only fools rush in
But I can’t help falling in love with you… ♫

{ Every word you say, the voice,
bring back those old memories
the days when I wasn’t sure
and you were just the same.Time carries stories within itself
the stories I’d love to relive again.
Now it might be a bit too late
But I can’t help falling in love with you… again! }

If its not forever, its jus’ not love… Well, even obsession?

“Well, ‘I live in-between those mystifying moments of life. Walking through bottlenecks and Jumping to conclusions’ Is that all I’ve done? No!

‘I’ve always lived my life like a clause, changing as time defies, rejecting and relenting’ and ofcourse repenting!” *sigh*

She’s not able to move forward, there are words in her mind but they just won’t let themselves flow. She thought probably they are just as scared as her. But they had no reason to be, it was her who was writing and it shall be her who’s blamed  and not his words! “Well another day of staring at a blank page”, she thought and sipped on her now-almost-cold-coffee.

Living alone has its own pros and cons. But who said she was living alone? To an outsider or even her family and friends, it was quite obvious that she was but she knew she wasn’t. Him, he was living with her in her mind always. She kept changing his name, not because she wanted his to be like someone she just recently met but because it actually is and is bound to change. She named his name a part of hers, and then found out that it was quite common and so after being that name for over 7 years, or even more she doesn’t remember, she changed his, to another and then another and so on that even she forgets his name once in a while and changes it again! He’s been there for way too long now, even she doesn’t remember since when. People go through the phase of having imaginary friends and get over it. But her, she finds it offensive to call him imaginary. She just did not understand the logic behind how something so vivid, be called imaginary.

He’d make sure she isn’t alone neither bored, he talks to her when the movie gets a bit draggy or a friend takes a while longer to reach, when she’s walking down an empty lane at the middle of the night or when she can’t sleep at the dead of the night. Sometimes she has even taken time off to listen to him, explaining her something and then get back to reality. Oh wait what am I saying, he was her reality and the others were just mere maya. He was her best friend, her mentor, inspiration and most of all he was a part of her and was all hers to relish.

Sometimes she’d be caught staring at some guy not because he’s hot or handsome but because she’s been thinking if that’s how he looks. She’s not the kind of girl who checks out guys, she mostly checks out girls. No! I know what you’re thinking… she’s not that either! She finds a guy attractive for his intellect and believes that not all hot looking guys are smart and witty. Then why does she stare at girls? Does she rate her looks in comparison to them? Or is she jealous of their prettiness? Well she won’t tell you! The truth is that she doesn’t know it herself. She fell in and out of love too many times for over half a decade, he didn’t have a problem with that. She isn’t too old and she has her whole life laid out in front of her and he helped her draw an open ended map so she’s free to choose!

Both of them knew he had to go, someday and never knew when. She kept procrastinating and every time she did she laughed that her mind worked just like a government with fake promises and redtapism. She was just not ready and he, he felt like a man trapped in a woman’s body, quite literally though! When he’s asleep which his almost never, she’d just wish that she met a guy just like him and then let go of him, which never happened!

She grew tired of the search, in fondness of solitude she shut herself from everyone and dissolved her dreams with him, fooling him to believe she’d become one with him she flew back in time searching for where he came from and viciously tried erasing him. Little did she know, that erasing him would erase half her world, all of her dreams and most of her memories.  She tried calling them back but they were gone, forever and are now replaced with just the longing, the longing to be with him. She tried and tried but could not delete him! She had eraser everything but him and him was all she knew now.

The world now calls her a patient of schizophrenia, little did she care because they both know, they’re living a life that she had dreamt of, always ever since her childhood and never grew tired of it. Not even after she was laid immobile under the bushes of pink and white bougainvillea. She could see herself there but it wasn’t her body anymore it lay there under the tresses of twigs and mud. She was confused and wanted to know what went wrong, why was she not there in her body and for the first time she felt his hand on her shoulder she knew it was him, how? She doesn’t know but she was very sure. She turned around looked at him for the first time and he greeted her with a warm smile and said, “I’m glad you’re here”.

what the hell, who cares?

I’m not all that pretty to look,
But for all you know, they say,
You shouldn’t judge by the cover of the book.

I can be very irritating at all times,
But there’s no rule that the person knows
That he or she is the one to be blamed.
I just say I’m way too inquisitive.

I don’t realize either of the facts,
Neither the beauty nor the irritating part.
To me I’m just as pretty as everyone else
And I walk around seeking attention that
I believe I deserve
Frankly, I don’t feel guilty of doing this,
Unless you keep reminding me to be.

The other day, A taxi driver caught me staring at him. Why was I staring at him? Because, something about him intrigued me. He was looking at himself in the rear view mirror, just the way I used to stare at myself, at the blank screen of my LCD, the mirror, my phone’s display when it is turned off. Did I say I used to? Correction – I still do, and I love doing that. Ok back to the story, he wasn’t particularly handsome or anything, I neither found his features angular and symmetric nor his skin tone very pleasing. But still he was looking at himself as if he were looking at a statue made of Swarovski crystals or something. No, I don’t blame him. Everybody has some pleasing features, some are gifted with a couple of them and very few have not more than one imperfection and that’s whom we consider handsome or pretty. For him he was good to look at, or that’s what I made myself believe. But why was I staring at him? I have his habit – I see something and start thinking and my eyes pause and cease to move. Not very often do I realise that I’m staring at someone before they notice. This time was no exception, yes he looked at me and gave a smile, and that gave me an uncanny feeling, my defensive sense was gushing to action to let him know that “dude no! I’m not checking you out”. And that definitely was strong; my head just involuntarily turned to the other side like the release of a coiled spring and by then my face had shifted from the ‘I’m thinking’ expression to a frown. By then it was too late, he was smiling at me. How did I know? You might ask. Well, I was seeing from the corner of my eye. I love grabbing attention and don’t quite know the next step. The taxi was on the roadside and I was in an auto which was stuck in traffic. The traffic cleared my auto moved on but the thought was still pondering in my head.
Does everyone, regardless of their shape, size and colour, think they’re pretty or good to look at? Then why is it that I believe deep inside that I am ugly or wait is that not too deep inside that I feel ugly? Well, its not just about me in here. Does everyone believe they are beautiful?  (Note: this is the first time I wrote beautiful)
I even asked a friend about this, and I don’t quite remember if they actually answered it at all. So I made myself believe that everyone thinks they are good looking in their own ways and that there is nothing wrong in believing that and it doesn’t cost you a thing!

living out of a backpack!

Starving,
Digesting only thoughts,
I drag my feet to walk,
Stray dogs look up, expecting food,
And I, I just smile back at them.
Thinking, “I feel you my friend”

Lights,
My wallet’s lighter!
People of all shapes, colours and sizes,
Flashy clothes and smiles under flashy neon lights
Inviting, intriguing, Disappointing; life.

Ashes,
Dust – Maya; Dust again,
Currency notes, rolled,
Tapped to ashes, stubbed
The ashes, trickle down and
Disappear. Into the dust, yet again.

Love,
Unconditional indeed;
Wants to help you out, to sort it out,
To take you back, to where you were before.

Lola would never let me down…

Coy was a student, but with no intentions to study. He was 17 but still in school and he desperately needed someone, someone to talk to, to hold on to, to hug and cuddle and to cry when he remembers his mom whose place has been filled by his dad’s personal Cruela, basically, he needed a girlfriend. Being the kind of person he is he was pretty sure he wouldn’t get a girlfriend in real life (I appreciate this realization) so, he goes on chatting with random women online on this site named Hikut, a chat platform which brings anonymous people together. One day he meets Lola, a bubbly 16 year old who just got a new computer with an internet connection and she wanted to explore the whole world of the internet (she was way too experimental and inquisitive for her age). She was from an all-girls school in cotton-city and made sure no one came to know that she has not met much of men of her age in her life except for a few neighbors who she shyly says a “Hi” to and her cousins who are busy wrestling with each other thinking they were the great Rock and Big-show of WWF. In a couple of months’ time she’d pass out of school and had her wings ready to take a flight to pursue her passion for arts. One thing that Lola got au naturel was flirting. She would flirt and create sparks of love in every Tom, Dick and Harry’s heart as if it was her birth right and Coy was not an exception to this play.
And one fine day after a real long period of being friends with Lola, that would be in 3days, he asks her out. He still has this one picture of hers on his desktop, which she had sent the first day they started talking on Hikut. Later the same day they moved into a private chat on msn and then to gtalk and yahoo and sooner they had each other on all the possible IM lists. On the second day he asks her for her number and calls her up on her home number and from then on, they talk everyday rather every night. By the end of the first month he knew everything about her, at-least what she knew about herself and found all her actions cute and adorable.
They got used to the whole scene of not being able to meet they spoke so much they knew everything about each other and after discussing their chores for the day both don’t have anything to say and let the silence talk. Not very long until the silence got boring and they started conversing as lovers often do and found pleasure even with miles in-between them. Coy’s sister, Pallavi used to advice Lola not to be in a relationship with Coy as he had unstable emotions and was a potential danger to the society. But Lola just turned a deaf ear to Pallavi and her rants. She thought Pallavi was just jealous or possessive or just a plain vamp in her life.

She was so into him that she was starting to dream of going to Marata, where Coy used to stay, for her graduate studies. “If not arts then probably commerce or anything of that kind”, she convinced herself. That was when, Bitsy, Lola’s best friend brought her back on the ground and reminded her about her real dream of pursuing arts. Bitsy hated the way Coy was controlling her life, and even more he was older than her and would be in school for another year after Lola would have passed out. Lola consulted Coy, he thought it was for her own good and agreed upon not being able to meet her for another 4 years. She joined a residential college and got busy with all the adrenalin rushes, bursting creativity and a whole lot of new people especially men. In a few weeks’ time Lola used to forget to call back Coy if he has called when she was in class. In a month she fought with Coy over a million times about the silliest things that she earlier used to think were the cutest characters of him. She sat back and relaxed after each fight to review on what went wrong. She loved Coy the most at one point now she can’t even stand his voice, she was trying to reason it and at one point she couldn’t find a single reason to be in a relationship with Coy. She called up Bitsy to seek her advice and this time whatever she said made total sense, she found all of Pallavi’s words true too. It wasn’t just because of Coy’s inadmissible behavior that she wanted to break up with him, but also because she was falling in love again this time, to someone real and vivid, with flesh and blood and her heart thumps when he comes closer to her or even when he says a Hi with a warm smile she felt as if the sun was getting warmer, She got tingles and her skin rose in goose bumps when his hand accidentally brushes by hers. His name was Punk and he was 4 years elder to her, and is not handsome or charming or anything of that sort. Actually if you meet him the first thing that’d come on your mind is a garden lizard. But it didn’t matter to Lola; she was a firm believer of love is blind and was least bothered about how he looked, because she wasn’t a great looker herself.

At this point, if Coy would have called she would easily have asked who he is and that’s what she did too. Every minute with Punk, Coy stared seeming so unreal and imaginary – not in the nice dreamy way but more of a nightmarish way. She stopped visiting Hikut, changed her Ids in all the IM services, deactivated most of them and finally changed her phone number and persuaded her parents to change their residence number too.

Meanwhile Coy’s stepmother Cruela had made Pallavi’s life un-livable, and pushed to the state of committing suicide. He was upset when he got to know their father played a massive role in the whole plot of killing Pallavi and was arrested by the cops along with his beloved wife. Now Coy was alone with his step brother Coyer and wanted Lola back so badly. He emailed her on the address she never checked and even mailed Bitsy his plead to want to talk to Lola. He signed the last line saying, “Lola would never let me down”.

By the time Lola came to know the whole story she was in and out of a very brief relationship with Punk. She spoke to him again from her old ID consoled him and was almost convinced to go back in a relationship with him. But it was too late she had grown out of the naive sweet girl that she was in school, she’d been hurt, quenched, mellowed and harnessed by the outcomes of the relationship with Punk which ended the same way as she had ended hers with Coy. Coy still loved her and so did she, love Punk. It was easier for Coy, he never met her ever, neither in the past nor will he in the future. She saw Punk every day and wished she would die.

Punk nearly killed her, his words, ripped apart each of her flesh inch by inch, got on her nerves and crushed it to the last bit along with her self-esteem and with the leftovers of it he drove her crazy to a dark corner and punctured her soul on the nails of karma. Grass grew around the tomb stone on her grave that said R.I.P
She resurrected and started a new life, but it would never be the same as the old one as the reminiscent of the past failed relationship still haunts her till this very minute.

Hikut is real and so are Coy, Lola and the others. I am Lola and Lola is nothing but a dream. Bitsy, Pallavi, Coy, Punk and all other dreams died with her, and so did the entire universe as if it was flushed down the kitchen sink, down the drain…

well… ok but WHY?

I miss those days

when I could just randomly ramble and rhyme

with a few Fidel admirers down the corner asking me to write them a few words or even more instead!

Some asking me why I didn’t opt for journalism rather than design (seriously?)

and the others asking me to start copyrighting (That reminds me I still haven’t read up on what that term means exactly)

Ok enough beating around the bushes now…

I miss those days

When I could choose between making sense

and to rhyme

when I had the freedom to write nonsense

and waste all my time

I miss those days

When family stays away from your secrets

The dirty and the wild

you chose who reads what and spare all the regrets

getting your priorities nailed!

I miss those days

when I was just learning

and hence I can make mistakes on a daily basis.

Eat Ice creams when it is raining

and write about it a blog, like a thesis.

Now I am old and have to impress

Strangers and random people who might search me on Google

“Be professional and give your blog a proper address,

‘cuz otherwise you’d have to struggle!”

I miss those days

when writing down emotions were so relieving;

read it on a later day, and shed a tear drop or two.

And Hell No, I don’t wanna write for a living,

Because that’s not what I am Here to do!!

axe my ex!

Pull me closer and push me down…
You expect me to be back?
You must be out of your mind…

You walked this path with me
You thought you were my guiding light?
You must be out of your mind…

Now I’m walking alone,
You’ve no Idea where I am,
You think I’ve lost it…
I think you have!

Excuse me akka..anna… Have you ever used anything like this ever?? *phew*

Well, my product for S.P.D (simple product design) this year is an Asthma Inhaler by Cipla.

Four main inferences that i acquired from the people of Coimbatore during the research phase:

The first set of people think they know exactly what you’re gonna ask even before a sylabble escapes my mouth! They start, “you get this at the medical shop *hand pointed at the direction i came from* over there”. (Don’t i know that??)

The medical shop guy, “People won’t buy if u sell this opened inhaler” or “no replacement”.

The female at a prestige SMART kitchen shop smartly said “sorry we don’t sell these here”.

I mean do they think people are that DUMB?? Why the hell can’t you listen to me first??

The second type think you’re gonna sell “this used peice of crap” to them. (how insightful!!) They start like, “we don’ wanna buy this”. I sprang back at this female at the bus stop who gave me this reply saying “neither am i gonna give you this!” and walked off. Guess what? I had actually spoken about what i do and what i want from her and she hadn’t listened to me at all!! *sigh*

The rest just nodded their head in all possible directions. What should i interpret from that 360 degree nod now??

The final set that kept me going are the frequent dose of good people who have asthma or bronchitis along with adequate quantity of cute looking guys of which majority are fit who looked cute when they nodded to say no, but where inquisitive to ask what that “thing” was!!

WOW Coimbatore has good looking people too… 🙂

Junkshun…

Thanks Vicky for makin me write this,

Thanks suu… for letting vicky know that i write too!

“Is it 12 already?” shrieks a Martian voice. “Oh my god, AKKA! Please 5 minutes Akka, please…” squeak a couple of Venusians’ voices in unison. And the countdown begins, as the lady chauffer ( ‘cause she drives us mad, almost everytime) starts off with her coerces – her bad “black-mail” attempts, plus the male security guards, who suddenly out of nowhere, come off for their “unimportant” rescue mission of how-to-clear-the junction-traffic with their initial ‘pleases’ and ‘will you’s’ and later leading to ‘lemme complain to the C.E.O’ (they ought to get a bit more creative Please!!) and in the end they win (hands down of course) and so it all comes to an end. The whole thing looks so comic and sometimes we, the Venusians walk back to our planet laughing out louder than we are supposed to which wakes our den’s manager (we being the damager of her peace) up. Time goes by so swiftly when you’re, well… err… at the junction, for ANY reason!! But wait, where did this all start?? To know that, you gotta know this:
“The junction” is actually, technically speaking, the unification spot of the crooked route to designer-hood, the Mars and the Venus. In Brief, an open, sunny and busy space of “multiple-utility” and an inevitable part of our hostel life. No no, don’t be too creative, it’s just a “radii manipulated” road that leads into the areas mentioned above. It’s the last spot where both the elements from different planets meet and after which they are ought to become aliens living in different hells or heavens. I leave it for you to decide.
It’s amazing how no matter of which part of the year, as in be the peak-jury-fever-times or the cool sem-jus-started times, the traffic in the junction never comes down to a zero, ever.
The junction carries a curse (lol), Thanks to our dear chauffer’s narrow mind’s interpretation of what the damagers oops, I mean the Managers of either hostels have said “no one should be seen at the junction”.so to just make her a bit happy we now shifted about 2 meters away from the actual median, to the old hunched light man (The pole) so that we are “officially not at the junction”. She said “sit anywhere but the junction”. Didn’t she??
Birthday parties, social interaction sessions, waiters, discussion boards, did i say Gossips?? Street light dinners, culturals, a trade-centre: to be mentioned, the business centre for the producer (usually the Venusians) and the consumer or rather the hog-head (you know who!) and the traded (anything, I mean ANY-THING!!!). Apart from us, so called humans there are lil so called reptiles (don’t we find them so much similar to a few members of our cult?) who bite on the arses of innocent *ahem ahem* adians!
You can’t call it yet a day here until you haven’t bid adieu at the junction to your loved or not so loved ones. So while at the verge of leaving this over trafficked lil area, they almost shed tears and say “bye, byes” and “Good nights” as If singing, “Leavin’ on a jet plane…”
And so the days at Dj goes on and on and ends at junction every single day, (for some, begins there too). With so many things happening how can one ‘not be’ at the junction??