It took 6 hamburgers, scotch all night, nicotine for breakfast just to put me right...

**How Kaavya Vishwanathan borrowed, published, made $500,000 and then was publicly humiliated.

Sheesh, she really thinks plagiarism is that easy?

“I must have internalised the books (Sloppy Firsts and Second Helpings by Megan McCafferty ) and used concepts, manners of speaking to fuel my own book”

Ha!

Now the skank got her due. I still have a chance to be the ‘first one’ then. Yay!

**My first day completely alone in Bangalore.

Zilch. Nil.

Kay, lemme start again in an effort to pen a few words of truth and experience on a day that I felt myself overawed with the sights and sounds in my surroundings, on a day when I felt myself overabundant with literary potency, and I rootle for words, I do.

My favourite memory in B’lore has always been the Planet M in the busier part of Brigade Road, where you put on your headphones to listen to the latest in the pop/rock section and you gaze out the glass screen to witness and absorb throngs of people, all moving, not going anywhere in particular, colourful, loud things, creatures, shiny happy people. (That one phrase is so apt for what I wanna describe, thank you REM)

I sit on a bench overlooking M.G Road as I write this directly opposite the erstwhile Plaza theatre, now stripped of every trace of a bubbling hangout.

Just a while ago, sipping on some lemon ‘n’ iced tea (again at Brigade’s, the CD that’s in the interior somewhere) I read a bit of Papillon and felt so blissful as I hadn’t in a long time, or maybe hadn’t allowed myself to feel in a long time. Here the ambience was good, I sat there, alone for almost a good two hours; the only thing repeatedly interfering in this event of a fantasy being the most godawful hip-hop that they were playing on channel 204 of worldspace. (Although, the title of a song being ‘brother from another mother’ totally cracked me up)

Before CCD, I’d spent some time alone in Blossoms. I always spend time in either blossoms or Crossword whenever I come to B’lore. Delightful, wonderful way to spend the load of time on your hands. Bought ‘Half asleep in Frog Pyjamas’ by Tom Robbins, after having heard raves ‘bout it on the literature forum.

Also bought ‘The Tao of Physics’ by Fritjof Capra off the road. Promises to be a good read. I asked for Cuckold, but they were understandably sold out of them.

It’s 4:24 P.M on Tuesday the 25^th day of April, and my legs ache so, as I try to ward off lecherous glances from some not so innocuous looking men, and there I was thinking I could write about life.

About life. H’m.

If only one’s thoughts could filter as well, if only one’s sponge like mind would not understand and absorb everything there is to be listened to and most that people say.

(Addendum: I scout around for any sign of Boy, or at least Boy-like looking people. Lots of Boy-like looking people)

Life is too much to be expressed in a sentence. However clever the catchphrase may be. It is very inconsistent, to give one complete meaning and derive satisfaction from it.

It is gigantic enough to accommodate every single fucking one of our minds and mouths and bodies. No, wait, that’s the world.

As I absorb, (see aforementioned ‘absorb’) I notice how I have changed, how I have been changing, how I remain long convinced that there is no meaning, and yet invariably, instinctively ask, question and wonder enough to make a laudable effort at dredging up an answer/meaning.

I realize how I have grown more mature, more silent, intense over the past few weeks, a few laughs (and worthy ones they were) – and fewer smiles. I feel like I’ve deposited my sexual energy in deeper, darker places within myself.

Ah, now, Its begun to rain. Will have to stop.

Oh, how I wish my life would chronicle itself, a pen would just keep on writing on the who and what and why I am.

*Sigh*

A burst of creativity, and then some.

Unto greater Gods

Amid the teeming crowds,

I look not, for a face, a sign

I have gathered in mind’s eye

A semblance of what may never be.

The balance will always vacillate

Neither willing, nor caring enough

But when he comes dangerously close

I‘ll eject myself toward the luring void.

Beset by hope, assaulted by the ego,

Having no choice but to stand it all,

Be able to reverse the path of the word,

I will not weep, for in truth, I will not have seen.

Rewind , Play.

So that,

When I do muster the courage to leave

It won’t kill you.

So that,

When we realize forever is not forever,

You can be at peace.

So that,

When you or I bicker, cheaply,

We can laugh a while later.

And I want what I can have now,

What I can feel, touch and caress now.

If this moment, this very one,

Can be captured and pasted in all of my worlds

This is how I’m happy,

This. And no past, or present or future beckons.

A fleeting moment is my life’s preparation,

Pitch and toss is my game of choice

Stall my breath for more than an instant

And I shall be at your feet gasping;

Why then, would it interest you, what ‘morrow brings?

Tomorrow will be another today.

Hold my hand, now. Kiss my breath, now.

Give me my time, my time is now.

And outside this force-field, oblivion.

Things I can't resist making fun of: Sharad Pawar makes a public statement as the head of JD(S) saying "People may say anything, I still thing Deve Gowda was the best PM of India."

Female friends of mine who have boyfriends. They're a riot. All giggly all the time, and hooked to the slightest vibration of their cellphones.

Once upon a time there was a tavern....

I must get around to doing a full reading of the Bhagwad Gita sometime. I read sections; and the one time I read it without stopping was from the Amar Chitra Katha. From a blue Krishna’s speech bubbles. Oh well, I was 12 then.

The reason I wanted to read the BG was this revelation (I wouldn’t call it revelation actually, reminder more like) that came to me the other day when Mysore witnessed a huge downpour. Torrential rain, and beautiful, beautiful, and as Koze would say, Byoodafool.

I had to keep my moped inside which was parked beneath a tree opposite my house; so I went out to bring it in; but I got hesitant. Here I must give you a bit of trivia, I have never been one who is scared of the rain. I love the rain, penned poetry about it too – so there I was, rain lover, hesitant.

That hit me like a brick in between two eyes. Why on earth was I scared of going out into the rain? That I would dirty myself? Shame for one who used to jump in the puddles and play in the mud.

That I would slip and hurt myself? Pity for one who is so accident prone it could happen even as I’m on this chair. Point being, when it can happen anytime, there’s no point fretting or worrying about it.

That I would be struck by lightning? (I really thought about this too) Dumb. Not because it’s not possible; it is by all means. But because there’s a slim chance of it happening, and it isn’t predictable – so again, no point at all worrying about it.

I have become too careful. I watch my words, cautious enough to use the righteous and diplomatic terms. Not with my friends, acquaintances.

I have become sort of a sell-out. When and why do we start saying things we don’t mean to please other people? When was the last time I knew that what I was saying was exactly what I meant? ( I have the answer to that, actually. Last night with Ze Stick when I told her she wouldn’t score well in CET at this rate)

Ah yes; the revelation/reminder.

A while ago – I was quite a different person. I was dreamy, slow in some of my reflexes, and quite innocent. Most times I like that person more. Sure, now I deal with people better, now I’m more capable in terms of delivering, working. Now I’m more of everyone else. Then, I liked me. Not many people did, not many people understood it (not sure I did either) – but it was nice being muddled up, brunt of ‘fatso’ jokes, better than most at Math, trying to be good and failing miserably at it. Heh.

Then, I was more connected with nature. Now, I’m more connected with people. I think you can tell which alliance was more appreciated. Once I aggrandized my materialistic wants, my spiritual side, whatever there was of it, was piqued. (I checked – pique is to offend) And all the while, I felt I was doing right, humankind is superiormost I believed. And we cower, we hide, we fear nature.

That’s why I wanted to read the BG; it has something about relinquishing your exterior, and transcending this world and attaining a state of spiritual harmony, which I believe strengthens your connection with nature. No, I’m not talking about moksha, I’m not talking penance, renunciation. I mean, going back to then, when we knew ourselves, and we were afraid of limiting ourselves, selling ourselves out for gain.

Then I would dance in the rain, I would play with the neighbourhood dog and bother about cooties only just before dinner.

Then, I didn’t want love, of course, I knew I’d be happy if and when I got it.

Then, I cried more easily.

Now, people that know me; know me. It’s not too hard, I ain’t good at hiding.
Now, I worry about being struck by lightning and other arbit shit.
I worry, like it’s a pastime.

I want, nay, I have asked for love sometime in the past.

I cringe when I cry.

Oh well, I was 12 then.

We ruin everything by growing up, don’t we?