Archive for August, 2012

What if I had super powers?

What if I came from another planet? Planet Jalzoid. My bone density and Earth’s gravitational pull would let me accomplish grandiose tasks. I like the sound of that.

But if I had super powers, would I use it for good or bad? “With great power comes great responsibility” … blah. What’s the fun in that? Live a poor life, wearing masks while jumping around as a caped crusader? Why not rather make a truck load of money, use my powers to seduce women and leave the world no choice but to follow me. Why not? What’s the use of super powers if not to use them? And if you go to see, me being the number one power in the world would actually be good. Quarrels and fights would be a thing of the past. Cause which man would dare stand up to the Jalzoid law? Unity would be something the world would finally know.

Oh, the world would truly unite. Against me. Because that’s what always happens. The world is not meant to be ruled by one. Freedom is essential. Forced freedom is an illusion used on the mind. Plus, who doesn’t like hating their leaders. It’s just a thing people got to do.”Playas gotta hate.” So, there would come a time when the world would unite to overthrow me and my waylaid ideologies. And that is when the world would rise above petty issues. So I would probably be the Dr. Manhattan or the Dark Knight of the world. Everyone thinks I’m bad (and I am bad, shush), but for the greater good of the world. See, I had the bigger picture in mind. And everybody has a kryptonite. Those bastards would find mine hiding on the supermarket shelves. Bastards.

And that is the reason for me having hidden my super powers from the world. I do not want to face my glorious end. So the world falls apart for my selfish reasons of staying alive. I am truly sorry. Global unity will have to wait. Till then there are others who believe they have god given superpowers. And their kryptonite is their own stupidity. Let’s go for them instead?

A kiss remembered, a tear shed and a bottle upturned.

It’s the classic making of what follows every failed relationship. What people forget to mention, are the friends they find after. Because it’s not a unique story. It’s the story of a million lost souls. Almost everyone has loved and lost, and in turn can relate to this. And they had also found others who could relate to this. It’s a circle which is finally not vicious. It’s a circle to finish that bottle in hopes of forgetting that kiss.

It’s funny how people come together over bad relationships. Or good relationships that are losing the sheen of “perfection”. People generally come together because they have something in common. It’s a universal fact. Some of my friends I can call close, only because of the time we spent baring our hearts to each other. You can’t do so, unless your heart has felt the spike of emotions. Oh, it’s a spike that ravages your mind and body. That’s the only way you can connect. And oddly I’m still connecting with new people, over old stories.

Those chapters of my life might be longed closed, but the story of my life still writes itself. Those times are still there for ready reckoning. They don’t hurt anymore; one grows accustomed. But at least they’re there to help others. A helping thought in times of bitterness and despair. My story, that for someone else might mean an additional tear not spent, another hour not wasted pondering, maybe one more word of hate not spoken, or just another thread of sanity not lost.

Who knows where my past might help someone’s present. Or maybe just help close the chapter of a past still being written. We all carry this with us. We steel ourselves to be harder and smarter for the future. We don’t always succeed, but at least we got friends to bring us up when we turn to butter. A friend to always help upturn that bottle.

Wordlessly..

Posted: August 7, 2012 in Uncategorized

It hurts to see notifications from WordPress. Not the ones that say you have someone following you, or someone commented on your post. I’m talking about the ones that give you updates on blogs that you follow.

It hurts for one reason – There are people writing, when I am not.

I’m not suffering from writers block. I could write about some obscure thing which I saw on the net, which really “moved” me. Or some random thing that happened to me on the roads of Bombay. I just don’t feel like writing. Plain simple, do not want to write.

And that hurt. I’ve given up a lot to pursue writing. I am not saying I am a proficient writer or a literary genius. I just wanted to express my thoughts in written prose. And now I have sudden moments when the last thing I want, is to have anything to do with words.

Is it lack of focus? Or a creatively-bludgeoning profession called advertising? I think it’s the lack of focus created by a sharp axe, wielded by creative directors. It’s as if every time the cold of the blade touches you, your head grows back up for the chopping block. But with it, what doesn’t grow back is that thread of a connect to the previous head. It’s gone. A part of you is gone.

That’s what’s killing me now. To have had my head chopped off so many times, that I cringe at the sight of words written by me. And I’m searching for a solution, which will hopefully present itself soon. And ironically, the best way to express my new found dislike for words is by using words.