Continuity

It begins very abruptly
and doesn't fail to flow
like that river of sweat
on a terribly humid day
or that weak strand of water
from a broken tap which
we so often fail to notice
in our own pursuit of
an endless ocean of success
wherein we swim using worry
and every time the storm comes
we look for a lifebuoy
that can save our life,
a lot like the love we seek
when the ground beneath us
breaks open and we don't fall
whereas we'd much rather fall
and have our feet feel the ground.

Dyscalculia

Another sweltering summer day, and another class of 'Basic Mathematics'. No, it's not fair. I am sure even the mention of this dreary combination has painted an ugly picture in your mind. I don't blame you. It is MATH, and it is HOT. Why, why, WHY, would you do this to yourself? I do not know why I am doing this to myself.

Of course, I am forgetting to mention that I am stuck in a stupid 5-year course in IIT, but I shall not forget to mention that I am 'stuck' in a HUMANITIES and SOCIAL SCIENCES COURSE. WHY WOULD ANYONE EVEN DREAM OF HAVING TO DO MATHEMATICS IN A HUMANITIES COURSE? WHY, WHY, WHY, WHY, WHYYYY?

I am dying. Officially. I sit in class and I am lost. I come up with witty comments or flowery poetry in the middle of a math class, hell, something is wrong with me!

My prof started 'Limits and Derivatives' the other day. You ought to see him. His undying enthusiasm for Mathematics makes me snort my butt off. It is downright ludicrous to see a grown man, standing as excited as a kid when it comes to solving some mind-numbingly complex Derivatives Theorem on the board. Wait, did I say 'solve the theorem'? Ah-ah, that is wrong, babies. It is 'proving the theorem'. I give a rat's ass. Apparently, I am supposed to. Anyway, this prof is quite sadistic. He KNOWS that I am a goner when it comes to Math, and yet, he smiles at me, and asks me some weird question, the contents of which I have NEVER heard of ( probably because I wasn't listening...Probably) and I am bowled! I mutter some evidently i-don't-really-know-what-you-are-talking-about-words and then he smiles EVEN MORE, SHAKES HIS HUGE HEAD AND COMES UP WITH THE SOLUTION...PRONTO! And I slump.

UGH. My life has been on the verge of extinction ever since this semester has begun. Mathematics and failing the course is all I have in my mind. Worry? You don't even know that word! It is supposed to be 'Basic' Mathematics. Whoever thought Derivatives was 'Basic' huh?

Calculus. I have a good mind to go back in time and throw Newton and Leibniz into a box, send it to Mars, and end this torment once and for all!

So much for taking arts to AVOID math. So much for my masterplan.

A pretty picture

Light falls upon the ocean,
and paints a pretty picture.
I try to capture its beauty
but I fall short of apt words.
My paintbrush works tirelessly,
yet, something is missing.

The fury of sunlight - where?
The frothy, singing surf- where?
The dance of the mighty wind- where?
The delicate, ugly fish- where?
The tiny gem of a pebble- where?
They've all gone hiding...where?

In the dark ink of my pen,
or in the opaque colours I use?
Unfairly absconding are intricacies,
And left behind is an empty ode.

Laws of Attraction!

Murphy’s Law. Things that need to go wrong, will go wrong in due time. What is wrong, and what is right, and what is rightfully wrong, and wrongfully right is not for us to decide, but then, we are the Lords of our own Being! Screw you, Murphy. Muhuhuhahaha!
In the middle of all this hubbub regarding right and wrong, let’s take some time out invoke the Almighty’s blessing with the means of a prayer. Oh, wait, that might go wrong. I have a FEELING that something might go wrong. Let’s not. Let’s all be atheists and live in cautious apathy all our lives! Sounds like a plan! High-five, slap on the back, a smirk and an iron-handshake (with an unsaid wiggle of the huge backside)! Congratulations, you’ve mastered the art of the Kiung-fiung-jiung handshake.
Coming back to the point, Murphy’s Law. Who is this Murphy fellow anyway, and WHY on earth is he such a pessimist? I bet something really tragic happened when he was teeny-tiny, and that kind of scarred him for the rest of his, and our, blessed lifetime. Piss the pain away, Murphy. Piss it away.
Murphy’s Law has a weird way of working. It claims that bad things tend to slyly creep up right behind you and poke you in the rib and stick its tongue out at you and say “Looooossserrrr”, and here’s the cherry on the cake- All this, when you’re already expecting them to happen! Jesus! I mean, how sad is this, eh? You know you’re going to fall into a pit of mould and rotten leftover broth, and you do! Yeah, because THAT makes me feel like an augur! Ta-daa! Magic! *All my wishes have come true, and I am dreamy eyed*. Oh, give me a break. Seriously.
Let me now tell you a story. It’s one of those fairy tales, you see. Enchanting.
Once upon a time, there lived Mr. Murphy. Mr. Murphy came back home from work and sat down to read the newspaper. Mr. Murphy tried reading the paper, but Mr. Murphy was certain that something was going to go wrong. He was sure of the fact that the paper was going to deceive his instincts and his abilities and that the newspaper was going to push-and-pull his sensory endowments and make him go crazy. He also felt that something else was going to happen-something dark, evil and downright sleazy!
And so, it happened. As Mr. Murphy sipped his faithful cup of coffee, and tried to swallow the chunks of news thrown at him by the tabloid, his mind went blank. A draft hit his empty head and his head was diagnosed as suffering from pneumonia. Okay, that was a slight exaggeration. (Or, not) The letters in the newspaper seemed to lose their form and were mingling into one huge blob of black, in a conspiracy against him. They seemed like daggers and swords, waging a dirty war against him! Eeeesh! He blamed it on irresponsible media and turned another page. This time, the words danced all over the page and he was convinced it was magic! Another page convinced him of his having bought a foreign newspaper. Yes, it was BAD. Never before were his levels of comprehension this low. They seemed to have hit rock-bottom and were sinking lower and lower with each turn of the page. At one point, Murphy was convinced that the words had formed a chain and were parading naked around the room only to imitate a snake and scare him away. Not only was their structure eerie, but so was their content! The enormity of language intimidated him for the very first time! Animalistic tendencies overtaking the multifarious supersonicamorous retrodynamic shmooglecapability savannahanimalharrowingmadness. Ha. Beat that!
Unable to grasp the intensity of the insanity that left him indisposed, Murphy went on to the nicer things in life-Mrs. Murphy. Mrs. Murphy, a shrewd nagging man of a lady had a lot of issues. The moment he went to cuddle up to her, and tell her that he loved her, she kicked Murphy out of the house. Murphy always knew this was going to happen the day he decided to get married to her. He ignored this premonition and believed in goodness, who, eventually, betrayed his balls. Hence, Murphy justified himself by saying that ‘Aal was well’ and that he always KNEW something was going to go haywire, but he didn’t mind taking the goddamned plunge. So much for chivalry.
With nothing more to do, and with the intent of venting, Murphy Macho sat down to work. Unable to concentrate, and unable to get that ‘wet’ feeling out of himself, he decided to do something for the well-being of the society at large. He created the Murphy’s Laws. He also added that the Murphy Laws adhere to positive and cheerful situations as well, but like that’s going to happen!
Murphy, Murphy. Darling Murphy, what have you got against us poor souls? So, you had a bad day, so you had a bad marriage. Tsk, tsk, does that mean you get all charged and come up with a wacky theory that rules the life of many later on? The other day, I had a feeling I was going to inflate, like a balloon, and roam the skies. Naah, honey, it was sheer gas.
Then again, I look around, and I see Murphy Man ruling the psyche of many a person! The other day, a Prof said “You guys have come late, I expected this. Murphy’s Law”. Eh? What the hell? You don’t need Murphy to tell you that a bunch of guys in any class, at any time, will be late. How fancy can a man get?
Annnyyyway, Murphy, it was nice knowing you. You might be right you know. For instance, I have a vague feeling, and there’s an imminent possibility, of this article being thrown into the trash by whosoever reads it. It probably will. But, whether or not Murphy Man’s law works is for the reader to decide. Come on, you, let’s prove Murphy Man wrong! ;)

Happy Is a Yuppy Word

I am spent. I am spent and tired of fighting a lost battle against blues. I mean, what's the point? These veiled ghosts of sadness just seem to lurk at every corner of the road! Rowling's depiction of 'Dementors' is so perfect! Yes, babies, that is how I perceive unhappiness, and I am not ashamed of that! They're bloody, filthy, slimy creatures who suck on your happiness till their sadism is satiated!
Then again, the enlightened say, "Ignore them, you just be happy"
Aw, come on! How can you be happy? Is happiness a pill that you ingest? Is happiness a candy to suck on? Is happiness a pink umbrella that I can carry, to prevent the harshness of the mean Sun from getting to me? Is happiness a product for sale on EBay? Is happiness on my blog (definitely not)?
Tell me, what is this wondrous, ephemeral, or eternal, spring of joy that emanates from the bottom a rocky world- called happiness? And how do I win it?

Several attempts, by many a person have left Mankind clueless as to the answer to this universal question. Happiness has been sought in literature, in music, in dance, in art, in science, in God! And yet, nothing worked! Where does this butterfly live? Where does it hide? Why does it fly only once-a-while and glimmer through the alleys of life like a faraway dream? A mirage, almost. AN OPTICAL ILLUSION! That's what happiness is...NOT.

I am perplexed! I am distraught! I am moved! I am defeated! Yet again, I ask myself, why am I not happy?

My bed time story

You're nice enough to inquire about my dreams,
wish you were nice enough to tear my head apart,
and delve into that realm of unconsciousness
that awaits your arrival every sleeping moment.
Wish you could slither into the niches of fantasy,
and perceive what I can see with my eyes closed.
The land of peace and pain that coexist,
and the feeling of togetherness despite distance.
The shimmer of love that gleams with pride in my eye,
and the darkness of exotica that lurks in every eyelash.
Nocturnal delight is dripping with sensuality,
and the grip of sleep is refusing to loosen.
Come, O dear, hold my hand and come with me!
And we shall journey through the endless time,
to an endless space, for an endless love.

A random thought

The shards of a broken illusion
reflected a pretty world.
What illusion, but a neat mirror,
could be broken anyway?
Vanity had been obliterated,
and the pride had bled.
The stench of the carcass of malady,
pervading the health of a glorious life.