Because I know you'll be there for me, when the rain starts to pour!

Sometimes when you sit back and procrastinate, think about where you were wrong, silly, smart or witty; unknowingly there are a bunch of people who continue reappearing in every flashback.

They’re there when you have a look at the pictures of how you celebrated your birthday in play school, when you cried over a stolen story in UKG, when you failed an integers test in grade six (they failed too!), when you copied (so effing much) on a civics test, when you became a teenager, when you went mad crushing on every guy as a ‘teenager’, when you cried waterfalls at the end of grade ten.

They were still there when you parted, there were mails in inboxes, letters in the mailbox, calls every Sunday, skyping every weekend! They were there as you grew up. From a toddler to an adult. They were there- for encouragement, for wiping tears, for more tears (happiness)!

This post of mine takes pride in being dedicated to those indispensible pals of a lifetime!

 A million praises would fall short: this line is old school. They aren’t gods and goddesses, for God’s sake! But then, in the end, they’re crazy people, with heavenly powers meant to be used only on you. They make you. It is said that your friends are your only relations you make-you chose. And I’ve chosen very wisely! At least a few!

It hasn’t been a very smooth sail, we’ve had storms- ALL SORTS OF ‘EM! In the end, like self-declared mature individuals, we’ve accepted each other. I’ve accepted one’s spontaneity, one’s bragging, their crib-iness, their teasing. They must have just thanked God for bestowing me upon them. So, with this set up, we proceed towards being the best buffalo buddies ever!

I tough wood as I type this: our journey for over several years now has been so ideal, with ups and downs, but never a fall; with cries and smiles, but never a loss; with arguing and agreeing, but never a disregard! *TOUCHES WOOD AGAIN!*

A day off and it feels like a void. I wonder if they feel the same. My best friends.

I could have gone on to write essays, probably even a book; but I have some buddies who would kill me for making them read so much. So, for the readers and non-readers, the apt size of the post is this.

I don’t love you guys, because the emotion has two poles. I just feel. Everything was meant to be.  One little ready-to-be-angel once told me, this was one of his favorite lines: As we proceed on with life, we meet new people; during this, our roads cross and become one!

No good post can end without poetry. (Heh, I declared it as good!)

“So no one told you life was going to be this way. 

Your job's a joke, you're broke, you're love life's DOA.
It's like you're always stuck in second gear,
Well, it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year.
But, I'll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour.
I'll be there for you, like I've been there before.
I'll be there for you, cause you're there for me too.

You're still in bed at ten, the work began at eight.
You've burned your breakfast, so far, things are going great.
Your mother warned you there'd be days like these,
But she didn't tell you when the world has brought you down to your knees.
That, I'll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour.
I'll be there for you, like I've been there before.
I'll be there for you, cause you're there for me too.

No one could ever know me, no one could ever see me.
Seems like you're the only one who knows what it's like to be me.
Someone to face the day with, make it through all the rest with,
Someone I'll always laugh with, even at my worst, I'm best with you.
It's like you're always stuck in second gear,
Well, it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year.
But, I'll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour.
I'll be there for you, like I've been there before.
I'll be there for you, cause you're there for me too.”

Because we all love F.R.I.E.N.D.S (Few Relations In Earth Never Die)

PS It should be ‘on’ earth, but you get the message right? Wasn’t that the only reason behind inventing language? So, to hell with prepositions!

Getting desi, something I can’t resist, at least when it’s about how I feel (bollywood):

“Tera mujhse Hai Pehle Ka Naata Koi
Yoonhi Nahin Dil Lubhaata Koi
Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na
Maane Tu Ya Maane Na”

And my friend’s favorite: “Ajaa Mai hawaon mein baitha ke le chaloon, tu hi toh meri dost hai” Okay. Kidding. I have no friends with such a bad taste in music. 

All the pictures are age old. I doubt anyone looks the same. :) 
Long time no see na! 

If there is no God, we have to set things right!

“The Darkest Places in Hell are Reserved for Those Who Remain Neutral During a Moral Crisis.”

Gandhiji, maybe after doing some work for freedom (which I think is undue credit) left the world with his three monkeys: The blind one, who couldn’t see bad; the deaf one, who couldn’t hear bad; and the dumb one, who could speak no bad. In a very silly manner, we were all told to unify our soul with that of these three monkeys. No one ever understood the repercussions.

The blind monkey couldn’t see bad. But, if he was blind, could he see the good? Could the deaf one hear the cries for good? Could the dumb one speak in praise? Sadly, they were just handicapped.

Passing on ancestral knowledge, we passed on this. Today, each Indian blooms with the blindness, deafness and muteness of the monkey-pals. Neither can see perceive the evil prancing around, nor can they feel the goodness of good. They’ve become numb walking machines. Machines that adhere only to themselves. Machines that have lost faith in others. Machines that have become liabilities for the Indian culture.

Good prevailed over evil a few centuries ago. Today, neutrality does. My affair is mine. Yours is yours. No one speaks in favor, no one speaks against. Oops! I almost forgot. They’re blind, deaf and mute!

Blind to the sufferings of the poor. Blind to the wars. Blind to the conditions towards which our future moves.

Deaf to the wails of homeless people. Deaf to the cries of mother earth. Deaf to the knowledge being imparted on them.

Dumb enough to speak the truth. Dumb, to an extent where they have sealed lips. Dumb and dumb to caress someone. Dumb so as to give someone a reason to smile.

I did not intend on writing something today, or at this time, but the sadness lurks around me everywhere. The numbness of people. The dead souls, the crushed consciences.

Maybe we could just pay some heed to someone in need, and “together we’ll make a brighter day, just me and you! We are the world!”

If there is no God, we have to set things right. 

A Lot Can Happen Over Coffee!

With deep reflection, one knows that one exists for another.

CCD: The place where the first world people strike conversations and realize that a lot can happen over coffee. A few days ago, I realized what all can genuinely happen. (Maybe not over coffee, rather ice cream and brownies, but never mind!)

I visited the place a few days ago (as previously mentioned) and ordered my dark passion. I paid the bill and took the seat next to the window in the multi storied Café Coffee Day complex. As I waited inside the air conditioned complex, for a cold delicacy to come and greet me, I gazed out of the window, only to find myself at a shallow place.

While I sat inside, away from, yet so close to the scorching heat outside, I saw what we see each day. Stray dogs barked, cows basked their thick skins, garbage flooded the streets and tired and unquenched mouths of several hawkers argued for an extra rupee. The scene was ironic. I had to sit inside the conditioned room to empathise with those under the sun! While I waited for ice cream, out there middle- classed people tried to lower down the price of the kulfi and falooda they wanted to relish.

Kulfi and falooda

When I stared right across the almost empty road, I could clearly see a beer shop. It was named ‘Imported Beer ki dukaan’. The location, the paint, the gate, the surroundings, the atmosphere, all spoke against the name of the shop. But who cared if it spoke against it, or in favor? Beer is beer. The poor man’s ticket to paradise, to heaven! I thought that each evening a crowd would be gathering there. By the time I’ll finish my order and leave for home, a poor beggar from the signal nearby, a wage worker from a construction site, a fifteen year old from a chicken stall and the falooda seller standing nearby would stand there. There, they would wait for their turn for the illegal beer shop to offer them their tickets for less than fifty rupees. Tickets that would take them away from reality, very away.

Sometimes I wonder if the government has the right to shut down the shops. Where the government offers taxes for the tiny bit of property they own and the little income they have, the shop offers them an open chance to curse and abuse to their heart’s content. Where the government wants to annex their illegal carts on the footpath, the shop gives them friends who empathize. Where the government shoves them deeper into the hell of debt, the shop offers them a carefree mind and soul. Where the government tells them that their life is a pain to the economy, the shop makes them feel the beauty of things that circle their life.

Who is better?

Which is better: Death by pain forever, or death by sudden pain with a joyful life? (Talking about the aftermath of drinking.)

In the end again, I finished my brownie bits, wiped the glass cup clean, cleaned my clean hands and mouth and got into the car. I left behind the hungry children, the sore hawkers, the hungry dogs. I walked away like everyone else- maybe a bit better, from the point of thinking moral. But bring moral?

No. Never. Isn’t easy.

And the reflections, the sadness, the urges of care and sympathy drove out of me, as the car drove out of the complex. 

No, I ain't gonna comb my hair. I ain't going anywhere!

I've been wanting to write for a long while now. The last post I published was on 1st of April. It's been more than a month now. No writing, at all. I'm getting desperate, very desperate, to write. I am so blank that when I look, around in search of a topic, I can't feel the vibe, well enough to pursue me to write about it. I am unsure about whether it should be light hearted or heavy. So, here I am, writing, not about something else, but the weirdness in the environment. 

I reached Lagos a week ago. It's been amazing. Each day has been memorable till now. It's like truly living each day like it's your last. Not exactly, but, maybe, if you would choose to be a lazy lad on your last day, then yes! 

The TV is blaring on my right. Not blaring, but annoying me. I wish like getting up an going somewhe where it could be peaceful, but again, laziness conquers. 

Hush! I don't want my mind to think, so I'm fulfilling my desire to write, by simple catching hold of what my senses can register by default. Talking of sense, one is of taste. I had falafel yesterday at Tawak King, Ikeja. I can still taste it. My taste buds seem to just pop up so violently at the thought, thinking that I'm going to let the, have the delicacy everyday! Silly buds. 

And leaving them, and myself to being silly, lazy and lathargic, I'll end this post. 

A lazy song for the closing:

"Today I don't feel like doing anything, 

I just wanna lay in my bed, 

Don't feel like picking up my phone, 

So leave a message at the tone.

No I ain't gonna comb my hair, 

Cause I aint going anywhere!"