Displacement

If only I had the power to simply 'cut along the dotted line' whatever I wanted and place it elsewhere.
And by whatever I want, I don’t mean a book, a bottle, an Ipod.
I mean, bigger things like myself, an apartment and maybe whole sections of the city even!
Like, right this instant, for example, I would like to take a marker, draw a dotted line around my entire office space (which if I look around, is much like a shoe box), cut it neatly along the edges, keeping shoe box in tact, and slide it to fit perfectly into that empty hall on the twenty-fifth floor of the seventy storeyed grey glass building that stands two blocks away from Madison Avenue.
And then stick my face against the tall glass window.
And look out.
The whole day.
At something that isn't a hoarding of 'Daddy Cool'.

I feel like I’ve hit my head against a table.

Every time I wake up and think of you,
I feel like I’ve hit my head against a table.
It’s way too early, very unpredictable, and extremely unnecessary.
And the scar is beginning to show.

But worst of all,
Whenever it happens on a Monday,
It leaves an anything-but-bitter aftertaste,
That lasts the week,
Or perhaps till our next ‘hey you’.

Nothing out of the ordinary, that,
Just only the foundation for another table smack.

For Monday Mornings

*Thanks artpixie

What is wrong with me. No, this isn't a question.

I never fail to surprise myself.
And kick myself in the shin, in the process.

Five minutes ago(Strangely):
Right this instant; I’m fuelled by an urge to act inappropriate.
I wonder if it’s the lunch I ate, or a sunny afternoon spent on the terrace at work or the violence of bright colors I spent the evening with. Or perhaps, just another Friday night?

Five minutes later (Thankfully):
Victim far out of reach.
Mission aborted.

Moral: The world jumps to my rescue in a moment of weakness.

So then...

Every time I say, I want to be there and there and also, there, all I’m actually saying is…
I don’t want to be here.

I agree. But...

I agree.

But,

I'm a big fan of instant gratification.
Because more often than not,
Cravings are nothing but weaknesses,
And most weaknesses need to be conquered.
Or accepted.

And the only way to do that is to give in.
Because the sooner you give in,
The sooner you make them yours.
And the faster they become part of you,
The easier it is to accept them.

Math

One plus one will always equal two.
If it equals three then there's a pregnant lady involved somewhere there.
Either that, or, you're screwed.

You didn't think I wasn't vain, did you?

Feeble attempts at making ugly feet look nice.

Bombay Rulebook: Part #1

To everyone who's relatively new to Bombay and can't stop complaining about it, let me break it down for you.

• The amount of pity and time we have for you is directly proportional to the time we have in hand before our 6.57 Fast departs.

• ‘Most of the times’ we would show you the finger, just that ‘most of the times’ it's being held down by two polythene bags full of groceries and toilet cleaner
  

• We’re smart that way, so we get that 'in your city' fruits are much cheaper, the air is much cleaner, your hair is straighter and there isn’t 'so much traffic' on the road. Instead of subjecting us to this rant, why don't you do your parents a favour and move back or do yourself a favour and just 'get with it'(adapt)!

• Seriously, no one's interested! Unless it’s going to cost us our life or help us win a jackpot or ease our commute, no one’s interested

• If you’re not fast enough, you will probably get pushed around, trampled, abused or left behind. True for railway platforms and true for life

• If you're complaining about money, rearrange your life.
  If you're complaining about your job, it's probably coz you’re under qualified or there’s someone else getting your job done at a lesser pay.
  If you're not getting a job, re-graft your expectations!

• Yes women in the train cut vegetables and sing songs. So?
  Yes men letch and grope in public and it probably happens in your city too. So?

So the next time, you think about bellowing in my face, or someone else's, remember:
Bombay is the city of dreams. It is much too crowded with hopes and aspirations to accommodate ranting losers with heavy hearts. Get immune, get vaccinated and most importantly, get your act together!

Reality is a blind spot sometimes

Listening to music on the outside.
Stringing it together with a montage of happy memories in Polaroid photographs on the inside.

My, my, my!

Someone's thinking . . .

*From Dead Weather's 'Treat Me Like Your Mother' video

Own Your Idea

No one will comprehend your thought or its execution better than you.

So feel free,
To, distort it, fling it, destroy it, rebuild it.
Ravage it, stretch it, kill it, string it.
For it is yours alone have and to hold.
And yours alone to chisel and mould.

Guys, Dudes, Gentlemen… Lend me your ears!

Take your girlfriend seriously when she says, for the third time, “Haan mein phone rakh rakee hoon. Bus mein khadey rehne ke liyay jagah nahi hai!”
Don’t ask her about whether is the same everyday.
Don’t ask about what’s happened to the ladies seat.
Don’t ask about whether she bought her ticket.
Don’t ask about ‘doosray leddis’ in the bus.

Just. Hang. Up.

Because if she repeats that “Haan mein phone rakh rakee hoon. Bus mein khadey rehne ke liyay jagah nahi hai!” line one more time, your girlfriend’s cell phone is going to get flung out of the bus, with a force so great, you at the other end won't know what hit your ear!

Okay? Okay.

And remember all you messed up hearts, crowded buses are no time for love!
Now and forever.