Is it okay?

Is it okay to circle hoolahoops from outside the circle?
Is it okay to enjoy watching babies cry?
Is it okay to spread your legs for the wrong people?
Is it okay to sit beside fire and feel cold?
Is it okay to fall in love first and then tick gender boxes?
Is it okay to succumb to a thrash?
Is it okay to lose threshold?
Is it okay to sleep at time of work?
Is it okay to live in the future?
Is it okay to giggle at dead baby jokes?
Is it okay to not forgive?
Is it really okay to draw the line too soon?
Is it okay to cross-dress?
Is it okay to enjoy studying in a demoralizing college?
Is it okay to burn photographs but not memories?
Is it okay to shun down fears before they shun you down?
Is it okay to never fall out of love?
Is it okay to lament out loud?
Is it okay to find solace in misery?
Is it okay to leave after you've been lied to?
Is it okay to leave a project halfway?
Is it okay to wear footwear in the opposite feet?
Is it okay to wear unmatched socks?
Is it okay to trust your instinct at all times?
Is it simply okay to be okay with all that's not okay?

The bubble theory

I'm a bubble. A large spherical bubble with seductive ideas within me dying to be protected. I'm not only a mere combination of ideas and ambition but a collection of the passionate, misinformed and feared.

I'm a bubble. A large spherical fragile body with a million other bubbles striving past their paths waiting to burst who I am. I'm an interference to those paths that want to lead and a friend to those who want to be.

I am a bubble. A large spherical bloated entity carrying an identity of my own waiting to reflect upon a society living within bubbles of their own. I express my existence to draw attention to those who don't believe I can survive.

I am a bubble. A large spherical being in motion making my own route hoping I don't have to clash with others. In solitude I find peace and even in solitude, is my survival tested.

I am a bubble. A large spherical weightless form of matter taking up space and volume only to be but of no further significance or consequence to many. I'm a representation of all that could never come by aggressively making my stand only so I'm not washed out in the waves of glory that build or break all that one lives for.

I am a bubble. A large spherical creation of oblivion for I make no promises but merely give rise to the fire after the ashes have faced the test of time. I am the phoenix of a storm and a fighter of the deceitful not knowing where I may lead.

I am a bubble. A large spherical thin protective layer unable to survive in dense forests for there is no space. I vanish into thin air unless protected. My birth for protection is redundant unless I lead a protected lifestyle for I carry dreams and hopes of strong beliefs waiting to be torn apart by crowds that are rushing to make this world their own.

I am a bubble. A large spherical bubble on the outside but on the inside, a small baby crying for assistance for if nurtured well, can make or break survival. I'm made of all that can externally be broken but internally difficult to stamp on.

I'm a bubble. A large spherical reincarnation of the dead and with my dying shall rise newer bubbles carrying their own identity and ideas. I am that creation that cannot be suppressed and of grave consequence if hurt.

But, I am just another bubble.

Kati Patang

Patang ki udaan bohot kuch keh jaati hai. Uske saaye ke beech zameen aasman ka farak hai.
Zindagi mein bohot patange udi hain aur bohot kaati gayi hai.

Agar ab bhi kat jaaye toh na dukh hoga, na khushi milegi. Bas ek naya patang banega aur udne lagega. Aur agle kuch dino mein kab udega, kab katega, na pata chalega aur na baad mein yaad aayega.

Agar patang bas bane aur ud na paaye, na kategi aur na udegi. Phir patang ka mahattva hi agar ud jaaye toh voh patang kis baat ki?

Rang birangi hoti hain patangein. Agar aane vaale dino mein tum apni hi patang udaane mein lagoge aur katt gayi, ya toh jisne kaati tumse samajhdaar hoga ya tumhe dhang se patang udaani nahin aati.

Par socho agar sabhi ki patange agar ek saath udne lage. Ya voh sab saath mein kat jaayengi aur aasman bilkul neela aur pheeka nazar aayega ya poore aasman mein rangeen khushiyaan phailaayegi. Aasman mein neela kam, har tarah ke rang zyaada. Agar yahi zindagi ban jaaye toh hamari patange kitni mast udengi na?

Aur agar is ekta mein ek bhi patang kat jaye, toh bura nahi lagega. Aur patange udengi aur aasman mein tarah tarah ki bhavnayein lalkaareingi.

Ek patang ki apni kahaani hai.
Saare patangon ki ek zindagi hai.
Bohoton ke pantangein, ek sansaar.

Na kate, na kaate. Bas udta chala jaaye. Udta chala jaaye. Udta chala.jaaye.

Fortune favours the brave. Situations favour the wicked.

Oh my dear!
She will slowly steal him away from you and you'll kill yourself wondering what the violence was all about.

She'll give him what you can but then again he doesn't want it from you and you'll question everything that you've ever done for him.

She'll spot his weakness and grab him by the neck. Twist and turn all the words she knows, pierce through his skin and walk out with his blood flowing in her veins.

Oh my dear! She is evil. She is so evil, she'll magnanimously swirl her new scarlett dress adorned with precious diamonds across his face and he won't be able to judge whether she's beautiful in that dress or without.

She will walk in as a friend and seek your permission to stick around so she can share her clock with him and make constant eye contact while you aren't looking.

No my love, it is not you. Its her seductive power to instill ulterior motives as her body sways in all directions to grab your man's attention until he is all hers.

His morals tell him he must stick around but damn! that woman slowly bends over one day and touches his soft lips with hers while you probably just entered the washroom to freshen up.

Darling! She will pretend to smoke only half a cigarette so she can share the other half with him, you may smoke the entire cigarette by yourself and nobody is more happier than her in the room. The fire is lit woman!

She will make tempting travel plans on the days you aren't free and escape with him on a holiday while you commit yourself to earn the little that you do to run the house. "Oh we're all friends, we understand each other", she'll repeatedly say and you will fall for that snooty puppy face dying to spread her warm slender legs for your man.

She will gradually be that friend he goes to, marshmallow situations, join the two of you. She hasn't for the life of god forgotten that if a third person joins two people, the third person will always remain in between,  a little closer to him though, if you noticed.

Oh her clothes are very well thought off. Y'know that little gap between her beautiful breasts? she believes they're meant to be stared at and nothing stops her from holding those luring exhibitions at constant intervals.

The conversationalist that she is, she will find ways to get in touch with him and get him to respond. It was just a message in an intentional accident very subtly put, "Oops! Wrong chat". Oh no my love! She planned the whole thing out.

She isn't smarter than you, she is at an advantage. She is as observant as you are but damn! her words count because of the amount of juice in each syllable waiting to be sucked out to minutest proportions.

She will hide behind him during times of attack and the emotional fool that he is, blinded in the moment, he will aggressively defend her and in all logic, force reason and understanding out of you. Submissive that you are, you'll give in. Your heart just dropped realizing you're on your own in this battle, an insignificant battle worth nothing.

She is that explicit urge. She is beyond simplicity. She is giving herself away to be taken. She is lethal. She will have her way darling, at the cost of you.

Take care of yourself. He won't even be there to look after you once the damage is done. Heal your burns, adjust emotional temperatures, soften your edges, build stronger walls tougher to break because the next man you attach yourself to is about to treat you the same way.
Its the lucky that make it alive over time.

Its humans like me

The power of the unpleasant have a way of seeping through one's veins and conquering the entire blood flow in the body generating a general sense of meloncholy in the end.
Longing is one of the many powers.

It derives itself from a feeling of fleeting isolation that got conquered by an angel from above, or so they say. But he isn't just some random angel. Hes an angel who understood longing as much as I did. The only people who complete you are ones who need completion themselves. We are such desperate souls as humans, we need to feel complete at every instance to shower ourselves with the motivation we otherwise deserve. Humans experience this change like atoms within molecules where inert are the indifferent and the others survive in the presence of like minded or contrasting company. We're a collection of chemicals in one body manipulating other bodies only to sync. Heat us up and watch how we fly apart and grow into repelling energies forgetting how we were all we needed once upon a time to survive. Growth defends itself.

Back to the point, angel said hello. Oh my! That gorgeous looking masculine angel who can take away all your troubles with that one tight cuddle. You shudder your way into feeling complete at that instant.
Its that uncomfortable grip in the start until he tightly holds you where it matters the most and leaves no space for anything to come in the way. It feels infinite. Its an orgasmic experience one encounters under the strangest of situations and boy! its better than sex.

Now place the same chemical in a new environment, shes lost. She doesn't need acknowledgment, gratification or love from anyone. She wants angel dearest to travel with her everywhere she goes so he can complimentarily function.
But angels aren't meant to be amongst travelling humans for too long. They work within their space and move on.

Its humans like me who experience momentary bliss and watch angels fly to other people, sync their bodies and heal them of longing.
Its humans like me who wait for similar angels to come say hello to a lost soul in the sands of time.
Its humans like me who need completion for survival with not too many options available.
Its humans like me who've seen many angels come and go but not one who is here to stay.
Its humans like me who understand distances even when one is a floor apart.
Its humans like me who are in search of humans like me for permanence.
Its humans like me who'll wait and wait and wait and ...

Things Poker taught me!

1. Just because you are given stronger cards doesn't mean you're winning the game.
2. You can win the toughest of situations through perseverance.
3. You'll always get bonus chips everyday. It entirely depends on whether you'll recognize and claim them.
4. Just because you didn't win doesn't mean the winner didn't deserve winning.
5. You cannot buy your luck no matter how rich you are.
6. Winning and losing is all a part of the game.
7. When you see yourself losing, don't be stupid. Fold!
8. You may have an Ace pair but there is a bigger game going on out there.
9. Impulse can get you places.
10. You don't accept every friend request that comes your way.
11. The winner takes it all.
12. You understand the value of money when you've earned it but more when you've lost it.
13. Tipping the dealer won't always get you good cards.
14. Your friends will always be there to shower you with gifts.
15. Friendly tables aren't as friendly as you think.
16. When you've lost it all, you've lost all chances of trying.
17. Bonus chips are another way of saying 'start from scratch'. Its a tough road ahead.
18. Lying only works best until you're caught. Its a heavy price to pay.
19. Keep shifting tables. Luck has a way of happening to you.
20. You can't play this game if you're in this alone. You'll always need company.
21. Do not underestimate the power of the lowest card.
22. At some point the king must submit.
23. Your own family will give you more power than your own friends.
24. Your own friends will be your competition some day.
25. The things your friends gift you will not last too long.
26. You need to draw the line and quit sometimes before its too late.
27. Its all about the money. No one cares who you really are.
28. Only you can protect yourself in a world of dirty games.
29. Just watching the game from afar under no circumstance shows empathy.
30. The higher the hierarchies you walk past, the greater the fall.

Childhearted

He walked into a new world of people from cities he had only heard off.
His idea of bad people was very different from those from the city. His idea of music were the sounds he heard in the movies and Ganpati visarjans. He was a baby until he entered this new world. What people said was taken at face value, promises were meant to be kept, women would come with a love story of their own and one would catch his attention to never leave. The new world was all about survival. He had friends who never left and a girlfriend who never existed. He chased her though, he did, for a long
time that too, and no one else was allowed after. Friends took his story ahead. He built walls and never let anyone break them. He wasn't familiar with the melancholy silence brought until now. He toughened up and slowly buried all that hurt. It pricked at intervals but time has a way of settling things.

He murmured in chaos and in silence. He couldn't love after. A couple of women came and went but he was unaffected. Probably grew tougher.
The child in him died. He grew a ruffled beard and a prickling moustache. His voice grew deeper. His stories were now fabricated. Indifference separated him from self recognition. Dry leaves and added substances took over and in that did he find his identity.

Life as he knew it had been relearnt and philosophies were amended. Now, when he has found his corner, he is mine. Not entirely but most of him. For a while now. The child in him is reborn when the doors are locked. The toughened heart let goes of all miseries. The dry leaves and added substances can wait. The heart wants more affection. Cuddles for him are a sigh of relief. I am more than a friend. It means something to him when I'm not his for a night.
But he won't say a word. He won't walk out. He will let go.

Probably the indifference does still exist. All walls have not been broken, and never will be. Scars of the past reflect habit when he reacts. He doesn't trust his own self. His beliefs have mellowed.

The acceptance he submits to breaks my heart. It is that child in him that I see, and children must never be harmed or affected. He must never be at the receiving end of artificial adulthood. He is more human and forgiving at the same time.

He is the kinds you'd never give up on.
He is fragile and delicate.
He is beautiful!

He will go, one day, but when he does he'll break all walls and build new ones.
Yes.

A Father’s Letter To His Son

Patience. A word, which reminds me of my past and questions

my present. I taught my cubs how to run, hunt, fight, stand up for themselves and answered every little question I was asked. Really, after all I’m the only one who could’ve answered them. Questions ranging from why a bird chirps to why the stone looks grey to why other animals didn’t look like you and I. I taught you two that there are all sorts of animals around us and you can’t treat every animal the same. Patience now, however, has a new meaning. It is now an unfulfilled expectation that should’ve protected my old bones. But how do I tell you? The protector that I am, I must camouflage my weaknesses. This story will answer why I never received the patience I expected and you are raised to be the royal one that you are.

There was a time when your brother and I would go for walks in the jungle. One day, we went hunting. The courageous boy that he was, he never told me about the bullies. The sensitive cub that he was, he’d get picked on again and again. As a parent, one just trusts their child to such an extent that a tiny hindrance in his life would be shared. The bullies were the sort of wild wolves that live with vengeance for the lack of a luxurious lifestyle. A pack of wolves began to growl reeking of the filth in their minds. The tear in my son’s eyes was enough to reveal everything that disturbed him. That was my reason, my window, to fight for every teardrop he wept. But the more the wolves would growl, the farther the window would shift away. Torn apart that I was, I plunged onto the wolves, the giant leap that slapped me so hard, it scarred me for life. I silenced the wolves. I wasn’t wrong was I? How could I have watched my son getting tormented, when all my life, I have fought against all odds only to watch him smile? But I guess it was a job horribly done. Within a week, one of the wolf’s family members slaughtered my son. It was then did I realize that the bullying was all for an ancestral revenge that wasn’t called for.

The news was unbearable. It is a curious thing, the death of a son. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to the only one you’ve survived for. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things. My legs started to shiver but I ran. I ran as fast as I could to the peak, the cliff, where all you could hear was your mind and my mind was filled with chaos and the unforgettable growls. Where you could roar your lungs out and not a soul could hear you. It is in that place, where isolation and melancholy are in sync and you breathe those energies hoping for pacification and consolidation. I began to have vivid images of how brutally they could’ve ripped my son apart. I couldn’t bear the loss, my legs were still shivering and I gradually collapsed on the edge. I woke up to assorted animals staring at me wondering whether their king was alive. I had asked for light but this was blinding. The blurry faces and gleaming light brought me back to my consciousness and I quietly got up from there while the voices were still ringing in my head. I did not have the courage to look at anyone straight into their eyes when I was the reason their new king happened to compensate for the wolf’s dinner. The lion was now a lamb.

Today, I am almost on my deathbed. I still wake up, staring at the white and blue ceiling without walls, to those growls, those voices that have left a scar in my mind reminding me of how everything I have ever done had been washed for an action I never could take back, for an action that did not give a second chance, for an action that has instilled so many fears in me, for an action because of which you have been brought up to be the lion you are now. In time, I had formed my type. I faked it, yelled at you, tried my best to measure you with great accuracy, evaded the uncomfortable and glossed over the painful padding the historic records of my sorrows and accomplishments. As much as I subjected you to the display of rich, so did I manifest sarcasm when that was the last thing you needed. I tried my best to teach you lessons even at moments you couldn’t have absorbed but even now I will believe that I have always been right and will be, never more than immediately after I have been wrong.

I write to you seeking forgiveness for everything and accept all the decisions I ever took for you. Had I told you this before, maybe you would’ve been a little more patient and understanding with me and answered those millions of questions I’d shoot at you each time you returned home just the way I did when you were a cub. Its too late now but I hope you channelize your patience towards your child. There is a lot more to fatherhood that is left unsaid but is necessary in the journey of life.

Love,

Mufasa.

He is that guy!

His sense of humour is shit. His physique is disproportionate. His way of speaking is unchivalrous.
His dreams are morbid. His past is frightening. His eyes are silent. His walk is lousy. His height is average.
He is that guy!

He is thunder and lightening. He ignites all there is in you. He makes you melt. He is wild and fiesty. He is mild but nasty. He creeps into you and sinks in with time. He makes you want to love and hate yourself. He is a child. He is that guy!

He is comforting. He is soft. He is caring. He is a protector. He is around when no one else is. He is profound. He is sensitive. He cries. He is powerful. He is lively. He is life.
He is that guy!

He disappears. He is promiscuous. He is stagnant. He is cruel. He walks out on you. He is moody. He decides. He controls. He is indifferent. He is inconsiderate. He is a blur.
He is that guy!

He stays. He cuddles. He cooks. He expresses. He writes. He reads. He kisses. He smiles. He understands the hunger in your eyes. He is a fool. He is a clown. He is a mask. He is a clone. He is perfect. He is a wonder.
He is right out of a romantic movie. He is his audience. He is fragile. He is human. He is that guy!

He is angry. He is unhappy. He is fire and also the ashes of consequence. He is the remainder. He is ignorant. He is beyond. He is distress. He is a nightmare. He is that occasional teardrop. He is the negative. He is black with a smear of red. He is heartless. He is an asshole.
He is that guy!

He is my longing. He is a dream. He is love. He is an angel. He is distance. He is separation. He is existent in a world unknown. He is a paradox. He is the paradigm. He is change. He is not mine. He is that last wish. He is guilt. He is nostalgia. He is a fond memory. He is on the other side. He is crass. He is the greener grass. He is a snob. He is a womanizer. He is all I want.
He is that guy!

If Shah Rukh Khan ever asked me why I’m in the field of Media

Because I’m a misfit anywhere else.

Not for the sole reason of not being able to do any other task to my expectations but because I know I won’t be happy living or what I’d call surviving in any other place of work or may I add, ‘Time’.

I love learning. I do react to learning at my own pace because teething is not a very happy or polite phase to be in but I love how it pushes my determination levels to limits I wouldn’t have known of otherwise.

I tend to have this greed for being the occasional know-it-all, and the best way to learn that is through experience. I want to know of the various elements that go into making a film or creating an experience not just in theory but also putting it forward to and audience and allow them to decide if it is really a pleasant experience after all. 

I’m sure that if I’m convincing enough, I could probably walk upto a friend’s rich businessman father who sponsor my entire film to such an extent that I could hire a small focused crew to help express what I’ve been dying to tell from the bottom of my heart to the very same audience, but what I also know is that I will not learn of the tiny elements of chaos like I am learning of now, then. Its only in this learning as an Assistant Director or an intern in a fancy organization will I learn of the challenges that need to be faced to bring out someone else’s story out in the form of a good quality film.

Tomorrow or at a later date, when I realize that I’ve pretty much gotten the hang of all the elements of making a film, I would want to experience a large team of people working their lives out to fulfill my little dream of sharing my kind of stories. I want to then be at the receiving end of sheer deception, indifference, melancholy, sorrow and at the same time obtain unconditional love, confidence, faith and the feeling of being wanted. And I want it to show in my stories and style of filmmaking. Not that I’ve mastered any of the tasks I’m having to do now, but even once I get them right and touch higher job profiles, regardless of all the unintended errors in the output, I want to feel the outrage and countless ‘letting go’s that it has taken out of everyone to make what I’ve always wanted to.

For all you know, I may not even get that far due to infinite probabilities of unforeseen circumstances, but then again, atleast I know I tried. For my fear of reaching poverty, I might switch dreams and grow up a little to earn a buck here and there, but I know I gave it all I had and I may walk away with unfulfilled dreams and I’m okay with that if I can accept that I’m not walking away with unattempted desires, and it is for that wholesome need that I am in this field.