Why Move On?

What do people mean when they say “I’ve moved on”? What does it mean, really? Does it mean that I was crushed because it didn’t work out, but now I’ve put it past me? Or maybe it means I no longer think of her, she’s history, and I always flunked history. Or for some, it’s more like “I’ve kicked the bitch right outta my mind, she’s no longer clogging up the system!”

Hell, I dunno. I’ve rarely had occasion to say that I’ve moved on from anything. But for some reason, whenever such occasion did arise, I could never consciously say those three words. Sometimes I wondered why. What was keeping me from putting a hurtful thought, an unfortunate failure behind me? I realised that I could never ‘move on’ when it came to my relationships (those successful, and those not quite), you know, the guy-girl thing. In every other case I could move on, be it bad grades, bad personal experiences, family hassles; anything but the chick bit. And I guess there’s only one reason for it.

Why in the name of the Holy Lord above would I wanna forget anything that made me happy, if only momentarily? Ok, you got me. Yes, broken relationships are hard. Fine, failed relationships are hurtful. I’ll give it to you, when you’re in a relationship where your partner’s taking advantage of you, or you’re not even in a relationship and your intended partner is already taking advantage of you, you’re just a pathetic dweeb! But hey, you cannot deny (don’t you dare lie, you just can’t deny) the fact that at least you were happy for a while. And even if you knew that your partner’s wrapped you round her twinky, you were still glad you did it for her. Yeah, you’d be a jackass, but a happy one at that. For a while anyway.

Yes, I’ve been in love with one girl for the better part of a decade. Yes she’s often acted in a manner that might be conceived as taking obvious advantage of that fact. And yes, I’ve been irritated, pissed, infuriated, and even at times disgusted at her for it. But hell, I’ve been happy as well. It’s a crappy song, but Britney did have a point when she crooned in her broken voice, “I’m a slave for you!” And though I cannot imagine breaking through the barrier of my ego to match the degree of servility necessary to be a slave to her (my sweetheart, not Britney you idiot!!), I cannot also deny the unfortunate fact that love is the antidote to good sense and dignity, among other things. That may not be the case for all, but I’ll wager that it is the case for enough.

Bottom line, I’ve never been happier than when I would make her smile out of anything I may have done for her. And this is just one of the women in my life (though obviously the more prominent). I’ve only had the one girlfriend so far, and I spent seven of the most amazing months of my life going around with her. I use the phrase ‘going around’ for the sake of convenience, to signify that we had a thing going on during that period. We didn’t really ‘go around’ anywhere to speak of. Anyhow, that ended in the new year of 2005. Sure I was sad, I was disappointed, shocked, bewildered, confused, broken, all of that crap. But I don’t hate her for it. I don’t even resent it. Because hey, I did have the greatest time while we were together. And in the end, if she felt that it’s not working out, then that’s ok. I had to respect her for her decision. If she were unhappy in the relationship, how long would it take for things to take a really bitter turn?

I’ve had two crushes that I can write home about, so to speak. The first one was in my second year, and as I’ve mentioned previously, I’m glad that led to nowhere in retrospect. But I wrote two songs on that chick before I realised that God was truly helping me out by keeping her outta my perimeter. So I’ve never been sorry that I liked her. And yes, I was happy when I was around her as well.

My second crush is far more recent, and luckily, I handled this the smart way; I told her that I had a crush on her before my feelings developed into something huge. That’s a new thing for me, earlier I’d wait too long before spilling the beans, and by then I’d be so far into the gal that a rejection would be crushing. But not this time. Except that the feelings haven’t wholly subsided yet. Heck, these things take time. When I told her how I felt about her, I mentioned that I owed it to myself as well as her to let her know, because in my case such feelings are rare (my criteria for choosing women are quite unconventional, kinda like myself). What’s the point of keeping something like that to myself? And of course, if I do something for her now, it makes me happy.

No, I haven’t moved on. Not from the memories of my happiness when it came to any of these women. Not from the power of emotions stirred by thoughts of them. Not from the feeling of longing to hold them in my arms and tell them how amazing they are (however short-lived that feeling might have been, and in some cases, it hasn’t as yet died). And why should I move on? I have learnt from my mistakes, and I’ve had fun while making them. So why should I just forget all about the good stuff by blotting it out with the bad. When you’re riding a wave, you’re gonna go up and down, and the one inevitably follows the other interminably on. You can choose to get off the boat, and you can choose to forget the ride. But why forget the awesome feeling of momentary weightlessness that you experienced while riding the waves, just because a while later you found yourself puking your guts out over the side?

I Know a Pretty Girl

I suddenly remembered today that i'd once written a song for the girl i had a crush on in my 2nd year, the pain in the ass chick. i wrote it after the song 'hey lil girl', and for a while, it was considered my best song. of course, that was ages ago, but it's still not a bad song really :) i dunno if i have any written record of that song, so i thought i'd put it up here...

I Know a Pretty Girl

I saw her one day
At band practice at half past five,
I looked into those big brown eyes
And saw the rest of my life.

But i didn't say nothing,
I kept all my words inside,
Oh why, oh why,
Did my feelings i hide?

But then one day
I told her how i felt,
She said, "I'm sorry boy,
But there's somebody else."

Is there nothing that can be done?
La belle dame sans merci
She said you're too late boy,
You should've told me

And then with a weak smile,
And without giving me a chance,
She turned and walked away,
Without a second glance.

And i stood there for a while
Knowing there's nothing that can be said,
Couldn't stop the tears rushing to my eyes,
Couldn't stop the words rushing to my head.

I know a pretty girl,
Everytime i think of her,
She makes my head swirl.

Yeah, I know a pretty girl,
Everytime i think of her,
She makes my head swirl.

Everytime i see her face,
I know what the earth must feel
To be kissed by the rain.

She's radiant as the sun
Gentle as the moon
Born with the first raindrop
In the month of June

She smiles and looks at me with those eyes
She's an angel in disguise
I don't care for the rest of the world
She's all i ask for in a girl.

She says she's got a man
She also says she doesn't know
Where that's headed.

I just can't understand
Why she hangs on so tight
To a thing that's jaded!

But i know one thing for sure
I'll never let her feel alone
For as long as i live

Cuz i feel that she's the one
The one who can be the sun
In the tundra of my life.

Yeah, I know a pretty girl,
Everytime i think of her,
She makes my head swirl.

Hey Lil' Girl...

This is one of my crappy attempts at songwriting. I wrote this song in my 2nd year on one of the gals I’ve had a crush on. Nothing happened of course (which in retrospect is a very good thing cuz this girl falls in the category which I loosely term a royal pain in the ass. Of course, at the time I wrote this song, I didn’t know that). I felt like putting it up cuz the lyrics have kinda become relevant nowadays. Same subject (a crush), different object (another gal, definitely not a royal pain in the ass!!). as such the original song was only very loosely based on the earlier gal. it's much more suited and relevant to my latest crush. I’ve made some slight mods in the lyrics (like removing words like ‘yeah’ and ‘babe’) but the rest is the same as when first written…


Hey Lil’ Girl, I’ve been looking at you for a while now,
Standing in the sun with your hair flying.
Hey Lil’ Girl, you’ve got me thinking about my life right now,
All these years I’ve just been dying.

I never thought it’d be so easy to like somebody,
But girl you’ve just got it made.
I’ve had my heart broken many times in the past you know babe,
But life’s a game that should be played.

Hey Lil’ Girl, I haven’t said “I Love You” to anyone for a while now,
I just can’t say it without a reason.
Hey Lil’ Girl, I ain’t saying that I’m in love or anything like that there,
I just think maybe you’re the one.

This ain’t the first time, yeah I’ve felt for a girl or two before
But what I felt I was too scared to say.
I did nothing in particular and I did it well but not this time hey,
I guess it’s about time I changed my ways.

Hey Lil’ Girl, I know that your life is a mess right now
Maybe that’s just what I like.
I don’t want Miss Perfect, I don’t need Miss Congeniality,
I only need you by my side.

Hey Lil’ Girl, I know that right now your answer’s NO but that’s ok,
I’m gonna take another shot, oh yeah.
‘Cuz everything I do, I do with all my heart, you know that,
And that’s a lotta heart I’ve got.

I ain’t letting go so easy that’s just not how I play,
I’m really sorry, it’s not my way.
You think things are complicated now,
Well take out that list and put my name.

Hey Lil’ Girl, I know that you think I’m not the best guy for you,
But gimme a shot you may be surprised.
I know that there are lotta fish in that there sea but I’m telling you now,
I ain’t letting go without a fight!

Unnamed Emotions

this one i wrote when i was 17. was walking to college when i saw this old beggar. we tend to dismiss such people like so much garbage!! but humanity can exist in inhuman conditions as well...

Unnamed Emotions

He walked unnoticed, uncared for, on the street. He was dirty and probably had no place to stay. He carried an old, worn gunny bag, into which bits of paper fell everyday. For he was nothing more than a rag picker, just a rag picker, nothing more....

Perhaps it hadn’t always been that way. Maybe at one time he had a happy family, children running playfully around, the loving eyes of a mother or wife, the guiding soul of a father. Maybe, once upon a time, he had a place he called his home, his domain, his castle! Perhaps at one time he had a life. But now, he had nothing. For he was nothing more than a rag picker, just a rag picker, nothing more...

He walked slowly, plodding on along the road of a pointless existence. I was on my way to school when I saw him. He was nothing special, just another food-less, penniless footpath dweller. I looked away from him with a tinge of pity and sympathy, which was, however, overshadowed by a contempt that our unforgiving society has embedded into every “civilised” young mind. In school, we are taught to help the poor, but yet human nature subscribes to the cruel irony that more often than not, we, the priviledged, choose to look away from the miserably destitute.

A blind woman came onto the road in an attempt to cross it. It looked as if she were oblivious to the fact that she was crossing a busy road. I noticed that she carried a big purse and was easy game for a criminal heart. The old rag picker stopped next to her and asked her where she was headed. She asked for directions to the main road, and he promptly gave her a good description of the way to her destination. Before I even thought of it, he had helped her across the street and sent her on her way. I had been receiving Value Education as a part of the school curriculum for so long, the idea of a boy helping a blind person across the street had practically become a cliché, and yet the sight of the blind woman tapping her stick ahead of her did not move me enough to rush to her aid. The old, bent beggar had put all my formal education to shame.

The tears came to my eyes as I thought of how I had condemned the old man as a lesser being in my mind. He was not lesser; he was perhaps far greater than most of us will ever be in a lifetime.

He walked unnoticed, uncared for, on the street. He was old and grey. He walked slowly, plodding on along the road of a pointless existence. For he was nothing more than a rag picker, just a rag picker, nothing more... He had nothing any man could want, except for one thing. He had a heart of gold, and I can only envy him for that!

Tomorrow's Another Day

I’ve only had the one girlfriend (and no, unfortunately it’s not the ‘more sleepless nights’ gal. But hey, my ex was pretty awesome too!!). I was pretty beat up after we broke up. This poem was actually a song I wrote. Now I think it reads better as a poem. It’s a poem about hope, cuz sometimes that’s all you’ve got to keep walking the line…

Tomorrow’s Another Day

I know what it’s like to have your heart broken
I’ve loved and lost and it hurts
You’re always wondering what made her walk right out of your life
Was it you, or was it her?

I’ve spent a lot of sleepless nights wondering what went wrong
I’ve done my share of crying
But one thing we’ve got to remember and that will keep us strong
That tomorrow’s another day

I know that it’s hard to forget the face you see every night in your dreams
I know it’s hard to forget the fun
I know it’s tough to leave all of those thoughts behind you
It’s so much easier said than done

But you’d better know that the world won’t meet you halfway
You’re the only one that’s got your back
So stop wallowing in this black hole of despair ‘cuz don’t you know
That tomorrow’s another day

I feel the turbulence of the hurricane on the emotional plane
The world’s a blurry blob through my tears
But one thing you’ve got to ask yourself is if what you really fear
Is that love will disappear?

Yes, I’ve felt myself that I may not love another girl again
I’ve been pissed at the pointless dreaming
But someone once told me that love is the last infatuation
Maybe that shit’s worth believing

I don’t believe anymore there’s someone out there made only for me
I thought my last girl was the one
But you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do to make your life make sense and know
That tomorrow’s another day

Just keep your chin up
Take a look around
Just remember
That tomorrow’s another day

Wish You Were Here

wrote this one in first year. don't really know how or why i started it, but i'm kinda sure the ending has something to do with the 'more sleepless nights' gal (can't be fully sure though, i was pretty messed up back then). here goes...

Wish You Were Here

The couple at the altar swear to be together
In sickness and in health, till death do them apart
Promises so sweet, so noble, so magnificent,
That if they are true, they must come from the heart

The parson closes his tome
And by the power vested within
Declares them man and wife,
And then the kiss is no sin

The bride so beautiful
Her gown so pretty and bright
Her eyes, sweet crystal, so pure in love,
So shy, Such fright

She is so weak, so faint
She may come to harm
But the groom so dashing, so powerful
Holds her in his arm

And for the thousandth time
In his mind does he pledge
That if my wife were to cry in fear and distress
I should be dead

For as long as I live
I swear on everything pure
I will protect her, love her,
Her troubles will I myself endure

I will die for my love
For my love is my life's purity
And though my heart may fade away
My love will last all eternity

And physically though we be together
Till the end of this life
I know that we shall forever
Remain husband and wife

And with these brave thoughts of undying love
He sweeps her off her feet
And walks down the aisle
For a strange new world to meet

For they both know that from the rising of today's matrimonial sun
The force of two is now the power of one

I watch them pass, and shrink away from their awesome power
The strength, the bond, their joy and love
Does nought for me in my last hour

My strength has gone, my mind, my will
But not my love. No! Never!
For as long as love does exist in this cruel world
I will love you forever and ever

And if tomorrow never comes
If on my cheek this be my last tear
I shall wish, wish in my last gasp at life
Wish you were here.

More Sleepless Nights

woof, this one's crazy! more on the same gal. i was slightly high on beer when i wrote this. sometimes, the chicken soup books can piss a guy off, even if he hasn't even read 'em. if you don't fully get this one, don't worry. it's s'posed to be vague. but you gotta admit, it's kinda intense!! dekko...


More sleepless nights. More day-dreams. The familiar feeling of emptiness within. You haven’t left me. And you were never with me. You were always somewhere, tantalisingly close, yet always out of reach. Is it because I never tried to reach you? Is it because I was beaten to it? Is it because I was too scared of what you would say? But what is it now? Why have you come back into my head? Why do you torment me? Why can’t you leave me in peace? Why can’t I say that I love you?

Love is a feeling. I’m in love with the feeling. I’m not in love with you. I’m in love with the feeling. Just the elation of seeing the one who inspires those feelings. Just the lightness of my limbs, the energy, the smiles, the rosiness of the world, just the feeling. Not you, just the feeling. But why do you keep giving me the feeling?

Leave me alone. I don’t want to be with you. I can’t be with you. I won’t be with you. I love you…

I don’t see your face as easily as I used to in my imagination. Again, it’s the feeling. You just happen to be around, again. She left me, left a void. I thought I was over it. I thought it didn’t matter. I can’t be so vulnerable again. But why did you come back? Are you my weakness? Will you be my strength? Can you feel for me the way I feel for you?

What did you mean? “…if everything works out, and if we get married, will you give up eating meat for me?” What did you mean? Was it just a joke? You don’t know what you do to me, do you? Or do you?

Dreams. Dreams of spending mornings, afternoons, evenings, nights, dawns, everything with you. Forever. Eternity. A bond till death. May I die first. May your spirit forever live. “…and if we get married…” What did you mean?

Don’t smile. I melt at the sight. I hate you. I can’t win with you. I don’t want to win with you. I wont win with you. I don’t hate you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Shut up!! Get out of my head. I love you.

Chicken soup. Your first love. How could you? A test? A bloody test? Did you not know what you were doing? How could you? Intimate details of your thoughts on another man? And of all men, that bastard? How could you? Why? Why show it to me? Do you like to see me crumble? Do you want to see me break? I am broken. I am torn. I am empty. Fill me. Complete me. Save me. No!!! I am not weak. I can live without you. I have, I will. If animal existence is life. I will live. Leave me alone.

But you will never leave, will you? You haven’t left my mind. Not for four years when my eyes never saw you. You were always there. You would turn up anywhere. The attached pouch on the side upper berth of the AC sleeper. The hoarding. The ad in the paper. Goddammit!! Everywhere. Why can’t you just go away?

I love you. There, I said it! Did you hear it? Can you see it in my eyes. Can you look beyond the sardonic smile? Can you see the desperate disguise, the hopeless cover up? Am I doing a good job at hiding it? Can you see that I love you?

Too many questions. Too many questions. Silver lining. Wake up. Is this a dream? Are you real. Is it my imagination. Is it just the feeling. Do I love you? Can I love you? Fill me. Complete me.

Love me.

Damn it all!!!

For the One Who Never Was

oh, this one's a killer. i was head over heels for this girl. man, she could weave magic around me with a flicker of a smile. i could go on about her, but i'll let the blog do the talking, so to speak. this is some private stuff, but heck, it's old news anyway. if the girl i'm talking about sees it, then i'm sorry if you mind. this is my vent. i'm human, and tonight i wanna talk. check it out...

The Shoe Story

my dad once brought me a pair of sports shoes from abroad. they were beautiful, they had a great colour, they fit like a glove and it felt like i was walking on air in them. i fell in love with them the moment dad took them out of his travel bag.i put them on and strutted around the house in them, making my brother jealous. they were too awesome to be worn all the time, so i determined that i'd only wear them on special ocassions, you know, ocassions that would fit their grandeur. i waited and waited, and finally the ocassions came. but i was never satisfied. i kept telling myself that the time was not right, that the ocassions just weren't big enough. the shoes stayed safely in my locker, untouched except when i would take them out and dust them or wear them briefly around the house. and then the day came when i finally decided that it was about time that i put them on and go out. i put on my best clothes, took out a pair of new socks and finally sat down to put on my precious shoes. but i couldn't put them on! they were too small; i had outgrown them! try as i might, i couldn't get my feet to get into the shoes comfortably. when i finally got one on, it was too painful to keep on. mom saw me then and said to me, "there, are you happy now? your feet are too big now for those shoes. what a waste!"
i was heartbroken. i kept the shoes back in their place and went for the party in my old shoes. within a few days, without telling me, my mom gave my shoes away. my new shoes, my favourite shoes, the ones which i had waited so long to wear, were gone.
i was angry. i shouted at my mom. how dare she do this with my shoes? but in the end, i realised that i had just waited too long. my dreams of proudly walking around in them, my hopes of showing them off to the world remained just that, dreams and hopes.

those were just shoes.

what am i to you?

just a thought...

SAT Vocab!!

Heheh. this one i wrote as an assignment in our english class in first year. someone actually asked me if i was stoned while writing it. i was not. give it a look...

The Pleasure of Reading


Of the googles of discoveries and inventions of Man, made in the course of the millions of years of his evolution, just about his greatest accomplishment, as I perceive it, is the development of his mind, his intellect, his imagination, his power of communication and expression, his speech, the culmination of all these factors into his writing, and then his most fantastic gift to mankind, the submission of this writing to the world so that men, women and children anywhere may read, learn and enjoy the intrinsic complexities of the human psyche.

The utterly callous assumption that reading is one of the simple pleasures of life is ludicrous, atrocious and as dumb as dumb can be! While there are quite a number of unfortunate, wretched souls who do not benefit much from any book that they read, one cannot deny the immense psychedelic power that a good book can have on an unsuspecting mind. For when one sits down with a good book, be it a novel of fantasy, adventure, romance, political intrigue or mind boggling detection, for a brief but intense period of time, he loses his identity and becomes one with the story. A husky barbarian fighting sword and sorcery, a gallant youth riding his steed to rescue the fair damsel from the tower of the Black Knight, a noble young gentleman defying a thousand odds so that he may hold his sweetheart in his arms or die in ignominy in the eyes of every lover, a cunning spy walking stealthily in his dark trench coat, his hat and collar concealing all but his eyes which hold a thousand secrets that could spell doom to all, or the great detective, walking around the back alleys of Victorian London, putting years of research into the annals of crime to the test before he retires to a quiet cup of tea with the good Doctor in his quarters at 221B Baker Street. All these words, all these characters spur images of great interest in the mind of the reader. Most of us may never experience such fantastic adventure in the course of our lives, but we can enjoy every moment of it in the course of a good novel.

I have laid stress on novels, but I assure all reading that there are other equally enjoyable pleasures in reading books of non-fiction like biographies and auto-biographies, books of History, etc.

And so, in conclusion, I’d just like to say that movies are good, music and song is better, friends are outstanding and love is out of this world. But nothing beats a good book… and a warm bath on a cold November’s day.

WHO ME???

I've been meaning to blog for a while now. Finally i've been inspired enough to give it a go. It was always a piss-off cuz it took too damn long to open an account ans start blogging. But after reading stuff put up by shakunt and tabu, i thought that i might as well give it a go. so, Hey ppl!! here's some stuff for you to chew on. if you gotta say something about something you read on this page, feel free to post your comment. don't be a lazy bitch like me, i'd like to hear from you. so if you have to say something, click the link and say it!!

I thought i'd start off with one of the latest things i've written. I was sitting in the NCC (overpriced, underground) with a bunch of buddies. something had been nagging me for a while (chicks dude, chicks!), and i felt like writing. and the following came out...

Learn to Sew

Time. Inescapable. But continually running away from me. From those around me. The inevitable circle of the second hand, the minute hand, the hour hand. Moving forever on in their intricate, endless ritual. The epitome of precision, yet incapable of achieving true perfection. For every year loses a few seconds, every decade a few minutes, every millennium a few hours, every eon a few years perhaps. So, time loses itself, but still moves on, inexorably, excruciatingly. There always seems enough of it to waste, yet not quite enough when it runs out.

Why do people wait? Why prolong your agony, especially when you have a choice? Every moment of my life presents a new challenge, a new thought. For are we not the captives of our own intellect? Are we not continually in the search for freedom; from our surroundings, our pressures, from time, and perhaps, from ourselves?

Why don’t people say what they want to? Or what they have to? Worse still, why don’t people say what they want to, when they know they have to say it to retain their sanity, their happiness, their smile? What pleasure do we get from pain? What peace do we find in loneliness? What sense does it make to be by yourself even when you are surrounded by all?

Love or sorrow. Take your pick. Too often the one leads to the other, and just as often it’s vice versa. Like the hands of the clock, it is a perennial circle. But what of those who can’t find love? Or of those who don’t want to? Or of those who are afraid? Are they wretched, miserable, pitiful, cursed? Doomed to remain insatiated? Or will the inevitable grip of that most comforting of human emotions find them as well?

We come back to the same question, as inane, yet as profound, as some pagan ritual. Why don’t people say what they have to?

Too many questions. Too many questions.

This chapter’s over.

Turn the page.