Illfitting Shoes

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What moves at the speed of light?

I met a kid who made this joke and laughed at it all by himself. In time, watching his hysteria, the corners of my lips turned up too. And then I cracked up.

Why is laughter so infectious? Specifically, why can kids make you laugh at the stupidest things? I saw a kid with a shiny new bald head wailing, rubbing his head all over. He was so depressed about the newness!

This also brings me to the second point. Why isn't sorrow so infectious? Why did I smile at the bald kid? For all I know, his shaved head might be pulsing hot from the razor! I like to think that I took it lightly because I underestimated the sorrow. Only if I were a kid I'd understand the horror of roaming around and not getting to flick my neck to take that hair outta my face.

This underestimation is the root cause of many a worry. We forget that everybody has different levels of capacity of handling emotions. A girlfriend might scream her lungs out at a broken toenail, where a boyfriend could easily walk through a car wreck like a freakin' terminator. Does that make the girlfriend's pain any less?

If you yelled a resounding Yes! to that question, you're in a serious trouble. Be ready to face the truck kinda trouble!

I don't like Paulo Coelho that much, but sometimes he brings good words to trend again.
Also, isn't it ironic that software developers in my company get abundant of lunch they can choose to ignore and the labors lifting steel beams right outside crave for a few morsels of food. In my opinion, they need it more than we do. We sit around all day anyway.

But that's how twisted we are inside. Look at me, I'm blogging about it when I can get up and do something. Or maybe, I'm just overestimating their sorrow?
They might be worried about something else entirely!

I have an example of happiness being underestimated too, if you're interested! I transferred my blog to my own domain a few days ago! And I am so freaking happy!

But, it's not as big a deal for many people. And while it's totally understandable, I want reasonable understanding from them too. If you see me dancing about it months later, please, don't judge me.

Anyway, in closing, I'm actively seeking book recommendations. If you've spotted a bomb and need a tester, let me be it. But be warned, if you recommend me Half-damning-Girlfriend, I might buy a few hundred copies and burn them on the busiest cross-roads of the city of temples. In that context, I'm not sorry that I can't walk in your shoes. They don't fit.

For When I Close My Eyes

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Talk about paradise,
The flowers, the sunlight,
The moon, and the scent,
Of happiness in the air.

How the rainbow,
Is always visible, and how,
The rain is, always,
Oh, so beautiful!

No, I can't be put down,
No, not so easy,
I can't be made sad,
There's her, you see?

Everything you'd find,
In your dream of paradise,
She shows it all to me,
In a radiant, patient smile.

Hah, if only you could smell,
The happiness on my breath!
Oh, boy, in her, lies my earth,
And, in her, lies the hint,
Of my paradise.

Hi!: I think writing poems is the easiest form of fiddling with poetry. I'm publishing a poem after a very long break. I hope the effort stands tall! Happy Deepawali! And please, if this sucks, talk to me.

What Goes Around Comes Around

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Today, an elevator tried to suffocate me. Us!

I naturally avoid the office's elevator. They're ghastly. But some days you just can't avoid the sight of one sprawled open, waiting for preys to enter. So I did. And so did five other guys.

The elevator closed the doors and went silent. We panicked, rang the bell and when it turned out to be dumb, I broke down into laughter. The five guys looked at me while I clutched the side of my stomach and tried to stifle it, but to no avail. Anyway, the lights turned off at the next moment and so did my laughter. Snap! Just like that.

Anyway, the point is, does Karma exist? Laugh and you'll cry later. What does this even mean? It is our tendency to try to act or look serious all the time. For men, revealing emotions is a betrayal of the highest order. Why can't we just freaking smile all the time?

I wanted to post the picture of the wretched elevator. Unfortunately, the rascal is too elusive!

Oh, and if Karma does exist, who controls it? Who decides what reaction should a guy's action get? I think the answer to these questions will unlock a whole universe of new questions. My flatmate's upper lip swells up one morning. Is that a reaction too? Or is that an action? We might never get to know.

When my blog's interface was old, Facebook commenting worked. Now that I've revamped it, try as hard as I may, the damned commenting system isn't getting implemented. I've given up. Like the Scotties gave up trying to divide the United Kingdom. Some things are not meant to be.

In closing, I think I should confess that I got locked out of my car again. I was in the gym when this happened. My trainers came out carrying their biceps, "Tod den? Tod den?". I grinned like an idiot and left them with the car to look for a mechanic. But only after pleading, "Dada, main bas gaya aur aya! Please piche se kuch kariyo mat!".

The Heart of Life

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I've received a complaint about my blog. First of all, it's too self-centric!, it ran.

* * *

Do you remember the day when you wanted something so badly you'd cut off a part of your body to get it? I still remember that one time when I had given all I had in a dream. Every pore of my body worked towards realizing it. And in that I felt connected with the entire world.

I read newspapers, I followed politicians and I even listened to TED talks, but nothing could prepare me for what I felt when I felt connected. I could feel what a desperate soul feels when it wants something, they know the way of getting it, and yet it is not enough.

Ever since the creation of humanity, we've been living and evolving. We try hard to get up and walk. We struggle to learn to talk. We keep on changing ourselves. We keep on making ourselves newer. And that zeal never dies. It just hides somewhere inside.

I want to appeal to everybody reading this to look for what they're hiding. It's not tough, really. There's always that thought alive. We know what we want. We only forget that we are a supreme being and have fought our way to where we are right now.

The most important part in this struggle to find ourselves back is learning to be extremely productive when we're alone. We descended to the existence alone and we'll leave the same way. The catalyst we're looking for might get too late!

I remember typing, "I'm scared" and sending it to the person I trusted the most a night before my big day. My secret is still well kept, but that doesn't change the fact, right?

In closing, I'd like to point out that I do realize that my posts have become self-centric these days. I don't know why, but I will work on it. Till then, please keep reading to stay updated about what the disillusioned blogkeeper is doing. If you find a generic post, know that he's fallen ill and can't write anymore.

Good luck.

PS: Sure, my blog is random. I write what I feel. It doesn't have to make sense all the time. But do you really think a blogger can be so random in one small essay? 

PPS: I think connecting the dots is a game that's best left to be played by the reader. If you find a central theme, Voila! You've understood what went on in the blogger's mind while writing it! (And maybe more!)
* * *

I searched courage on Google. It gave me this.
I just couldn't keep myself from sharing it!

Deliver Us To Evil

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I killed something last night!

We were returning back from a late night show of Deliver Us From Evil. After five minutes of drive we smelled it. Imagine, it's 1:30 of the morning, we're down on knees with mobile torches trying to figure out what's the thing that I murdered after watching a gory horror film! Too much to handle, Bhubaneswar! Give me a freaking break!

Why do we feel remorse? I yell at my roommates and behave crossly with them for an hour, but I calm down within two and start feeling guilty within four. I thought I was born with evil inside me! What the heck happened during my growth, I am unaware of!

I visited a beautiful art gallery this weekend. My favorite piece was a photograph of a guy sleeping on a coil of ropes outside a Kurl-On's showroom. I felt the ropes tugging at my strings. Ever since I've moved to this new home, all I can think about is getting a mattress that gives me the best sleep. I've been focusing on the wrong aspect of my sleeplessness.

Feels so rich, right? Art and all!

I want to keep this short. Too much information kills curiosity! And nobody is reading me anyway, I think! But that's not an excuse. I'll read all of this myself someday and figure out what sort of man am I becoming.

On closing, I want to tell you the story of my encounter with BBSR cops. I paid them half a thousand to let me off on the charge of not wearing a seatbelt. I didn't argue, I didn't speak. It was my mistake, and I must pay, right? The cops were so pleased (surprised, maybe?) by this, they cut down the penalty to three-hundred bucks. Super!