I was going around in circles
and you were never in view
for a lot more days in that year
I wanted to be with you.

We were hanging to the thread of love
I was not afraid it would give in
I said I will always live for this feeling
the baiting touch of your cold skin.

Cause fidelity doesn’t last forever
As we both know what happened to Assange
It’s impossible to withhold the cable
When in Afghanistan missiles rain.

We’ve not been together for a long long time
Just trying to tell you about the relationship strain
Lovers come and lovers go
But you will be remembered for the sweetest crotch pain.

So if you want to love me
Then darling don’t refrain
Or I’ll just end up believing
It’s the same old menstrual pain.

I know it’s hard to really read my heart
When with all your friends I have a history
But I swear it to the just concluded fart
It was your BFF who gave me the acne

So never mind the darkness
Some electricity bills I am yet to pay
This wouldn’t be so forever
Since Dad’s car is now up on eBay.

If I lay you next to never
how can we stay attracted forever

Wherever you go
whoever you do
I will be right here boning someone but you
however many drinks it takes
or having to take a lot of work breaks
I won’t be anywhere waiting for you

I won’t remember all the times
You managed to come and cry both somehow
my post coital cigarette, your choke and tears
driven me so far away from you, and how

Oh how couldn’t you see it baby
we were meant to be, but some other life may be

That subscribing to feeds
or hitting refresh
hoping to see a new post
from friends of the online flesh.

Miss those long conversations
about the subtle implications that were never expressed
that waiting for the co-blogger to come online
when real life as a concept was as good as dead.

The tiny moments of bursting joy
after a new comment
the time I wasted day dreaming
wondering if the next composition be advent or lament.

Where are you lost
friends bonded over a bunch of words
your spaces exist in vain
unless your excuse is lost passwords.

But I have nothing against marriage in principle. In real life I am all for it. In fact just the other day I was riding next to a bus full of pretty and young things from Lady Hardinge Medical College. A flash from the past kinda thing happened as I remembered how I always had a thing for doctors. Basically anything remotely doctorish and female. I used to have these discussions with Maa when I was barely 12 about how I am going be this hot shot Computer Engineer and will land a charming and nice and warm and pretty doctor girl. I have grown out of it after dating a physiotherapist and a PhD (see ..both doctors), but the idea seems to have evolved with Maa whose only purpose in life before she retires from the active house managing life is to hunt for THAT girl. While her zeal for the project kind of scares me some times (because the prospective girl will have to live up to Maa’s expectations before mine), I also have a defense mechanism to ward off possible successful conquests – my Twitter stream. No girl in her mind would want to meet me for prospective matrimonial alliance after reading my tweets. Unless I have got women figured all wrong here.

So I have been watching Californication these days. I would say it is creepy how you can connect so deeply to a character in a TV show, but then one must always remember you are not the only asshole and definitely not one of a kind on the planet. Needless to say I’m all hooked to the series, given there is a naked breast popping out of nowhere every fifteen-odd minutes in every episode.

And I was supposed to give the IIM entrance this year. But I was conveniently in bed snoring my thundering sinus away waiting for the nymphomanical maid kid to come and make some tea. I guess everything happens for a reason. And I am happy not knowing the reason here until it presents itself sooner or later.

Which kind of throws me back in time a little. I remember myself as a very calculated person. You know the putting two and two together kind. While studying for IIT I used to derive the time I can invest to solve a problem after adding all the problems from the exercises across all the study material and dividing it by the minutes to the day of the exam. I was that freaky yes. Things changed a little after I came to IIT, I loosened up with respect to the ideal importance that should have been accorded to lectures and tests. And IIT Delhi was like the perfect place to delusion yourself. It made narcissists out of every Ram, Raheem and Harinder. There was some kind of pride associated with waiting in the bathroom queue behind an All India Rank 7. We went to lectures with some of the most unattractive girls of the nation put together and back in hostel we were exposed to a treasure cove of scripted porn with Casino grade assets women. IIT had the kind of girls you ended up respecting for all the wrong reasons – for writing fastest algorithms, for scoring an A while you bordered on flunking, for being able to talk to you and other men for years completely asexually etc. Anyhow, any more words and I am jeopardizing readership for the book that should be out soon in the next five years or so.

Right now the priority item on my list of to-dos is to get a full medical/dental check up done. I have been royally ignoring my health for a number of years now, despite having had gentle friendly warnings from people around me. I guess that Tata Safari Dicor ad can be blamed for ruining my good sense in this matter. I don’t think I’d like to remember working out in the corner of a shady gym, when I might very well be downing shots of expensive Mexican tequila in that fancy bar at TGIF. I mean comeon you health conscious people ..you are not going down in the annals of history with any more golden words than me.

Anyway, enough with all of that. This felt good. That is what sickness does. Makes you feel vulnerable and then something happens that just turns things around. Like a she friend going all ‘Awwwww’ and planting a more-than-friendly kiss somewhere on your face.

The point is ..I am happy to be writing again. Hank Moody, after all, seems to get all the girls with his words.

So probably after a huge sense of guilt, I woke up at 4 in the morning. Partly also because I felt something brushing against my right hand which I think was royally twirled over my head beyond the bed post and almost touching the floor. Sudden panic is so not good at that hour in the morning, worse when you’re sick and in much-desired deep sleep. The sudden jerky motion that brought the top half of my body ninety degrees closer to the bottom could partially be regarded to the rat infestation in our house for the last few days. As much as I find these creatures cute for all visual purposes, I have no love to rear and nurture and feed the pests. We (hereafter referring to me [@nitinsgr] and my flat mate Nithin K D [@nithinkd]) had managed to catch four of the family with about a quarter of a Parle G in the space of one night. I had no clue about KD’s awesome creativity when it came to murder (too). He lit a smoky fire in an unused earthen pot, kept the catch in the cage over its face, and covered it all with a cloth. Painlessly asphyxiated with a little carbon monoxide. There are about half a dozen more to be caught and executed in similar or smarter fashion. Will keep you posted.

So this friend calls up very early in the morning, having just returned from a Sufi music night, and a shade too moved to sleep. Few minutes into the conversation and I figured (or she confessed) that she was a little horny after the experience and needed some incitement. Okay. I like this new job. Though I remember I conveniently killed her desires talking about my running nose and phlegm and grey cough. Sorry about that girl. Some other time may be.

Also met @ambikajoshi after a gap of two years. She’s grown fabulously hotter and prettier, except for the fact that her getup makes no bones about her being a mixed South Indian. I think somewhere along the long conversation I mentioned her coming across as partly lesbian. And I still think she has the coolest parents ever.

Mamta, my cook has been barging in and out while I’ve been trying to write cribbing about their being no aata in the house for paranthas. She’s the most unsentimental woman I’m likely to meet. None of my jokes work on her. The sneers she would welcome me with in the morning continue till she steps out of the apartment. I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m a nasty human being and if not for the money I pay her, she would cut my spleen out with her swordish hands and gaze.

I’ve taken another off from work today. Dad seems pretty convinced that I couldn’t possibly get swine flu, and so far it’s just a change of weather according to him that’s hit me. I agree with him due to lack of options. I would anyway hate to die after a cardiac arrest (learnt this morning that’s how people with H1N1 are going).

I’ve good reasons to start looking for the next job, as I approach the end of my one year in the present one. Plus a colleague at work did me a psychic reading and claimed my karma in India is almost done with. I was terrified in the way she conducted this session and so I don’t quite believe too much in her foretelling.

We used to have a lot of pretty girls coming in to Mr. Raghu Rai (my next door neighbor, and yes the acclaimed photographer)’s house all the time. I think they did not appreciate me in my expensive Levi’s denim shorts and just that as every morning I lay chase for them in the corridor with tea in an even more expensive Borosil glass. No footfalls any more.

My foot fetish has taken a beating off late. With winter round the corner, I hope the girls will cover up and all that would be left to see and admire will be the bottoms. And whatever has happened to these amazingly hot girls in Delhi! I mean where’s the factory that’s producing them in such huge numbers anyway! In fact I remember a bunch of eleventh grade students from a school for the excessively rich had come visiting us at work for I don’t know what academic reasons; and the girls there! I mean I did not notice when I switched from talking about software and IT to telling one of the girls how pretty her brown streaks looked! There are just not enough men to match up to these growing numbers of desirable women. Sigh.

Okay. Blogging is not a pain after all. I can be interesting. Right? RIGHT?

So I’m down with major flu right now. Took an off from work and it got so incredibly bland and difficult to not do anything that I’m here.

One thing I’ve been telling almost everyone I meet these days is that our jobs make us sad people. That, when I’m one of the very few workers who love what they do. I’ve changed since I started working. Tremendously. And it has cost me dearly on a personal level, while I’ve only grown happier on the material level. I used to be a most sensitive friend, boyfriend, son, brother, kin and all the rest. It has taken a definite beating. When I saw I could be a perfectionist on the work front, I let go of the obsessive desire to keep every part of the rest of my life in good shape. It sounds terrible as I write it and read it and hear it in my ears. But truth must be told. Even to self.

I stay in what could easily be the most peaceful location for a room in an apartment in this city. I’ve spent endless hours in my balcony that stretches to give a panoramic view of about 180 degrees of South Delhi, with beer in one hand and uncertainty that I’ve tended to clutch in the other. A decent number of women have come and admired the view and collectively the person who it belongs to now. I can recount almost no weekends when there’s not been a friend or two to drink with. I look at it as some sort of a calming influence after six mad days at work. My social circle has by all means expanded like crazy once I got into the job, but the time I spent with no body by my side has grown inversely to that number. I’ve met a lot of interesting people in the last few months, but few who I’ve come to really respect. Somehow finding faults with people has only gotten easier. And so has accepting them as they are. The manner in which I understood humanity has turned itself on its head. I remember I was a fairly closed person earlier. I hope some friends have known this. These days while my perspective has undergone a sea change, and by virtue of that I should be able to judge more wisely, I don’t. I let things happen. To me. If there’s a concept of living every day, I practice it now. I’m not averse to change of any kind. I assumed I can always go back to being what I was. Unfortunately, that time has never come. I’m only sinking deep into the shit of life and its ways.

As long as you were in college, it was pretty straightforward to not worry about the future. There was a set timeline when you knew things would happen on their own. Once out of that routine, time loses its significance. You know every day that you’re not inching closer to any deadline. The maximum you would do is remember how soon the year is coming to and end, or how long since the time you kissed a girl. Everything else ceases to exist. You don’t worry if you’re getting old. Or if your parents are. Because you were just thrown onto a mechanical belt that shall henceforth carry you through different stages of a process you will never figure. You are expected to obey and just do things, not worrying about what and where and when.

This is also the time when you derive a lot of useful information from things and people and events around you. Suddenly you will start to notice where your peers have reached on the ladder of life, and what struggles you must now do to keep up. The sheer magnitude of ways and means you could move ahead in life can drive you crazy. How many of us have been blessed with the vision to weigh and anticipate all options and choose the best?

Anyhow, the pills have worked on me undeniably. That’s the saddest I’ve been in like a long time! I shall write again soon. I promise. This time, I hope it’s not another 75 days.

Time for some adrak chai now.

Dearest one,
I am a single girl searching for my soul mate, after reading a little about you whlie i was surfing the net, i became interested in you So please give me the chance to introduce myself to you.
My names are Rose Jasmine Awa i am 23 yrs old , i came from Liberia in Africa. I am the only daughter of Dr  Wilson Awa.  my late father was the director of ‘AWA INDUSTRIAL COMPANY LIMITED’ (AICL) before his death from the war going on in my country .It was on one early morning attack to my family killing both my parents on a cold blood as i am the only one left. i flew to a near by country Dakar Senegal where we are staying now as a refugee. I am doing my second year in nursing school before the incident occured.
Please kindly contact me with this my private email address so that i can send my pictures to you for further introductions. I will also want to know your likes and dislikes. I will tell you more about me in my next mail.
Awaiting to hear from you very soon, God bless you
yours faithfully,
Rose Jasmine.