Love and sacrifices of heart.

I don’t know what happened and how I lost the focus I had for myself. I stopped writing and totally lost control over my life. It all started around 4 months back. Sometimes we just do something in life which has no meaning and future but still we do it even if, it only hurts for every second we are living it. What else I have no idea.

 

All my life I have tried very hard to be a good guy. And all my life I feel I have failed so many times and so often that I should actually give it up. I have made so many sacrifices for relationship sakes in terms of family commitments, friendship commitments, my own self goals, my self-worth even. And I am not saying that I am Mr. perfect and haven’t done wrong. I have broken hearts myself and hurt feelings of people who loved me. I now actually feel the cycle of life. We reap what we sow. Even now I know someone loves me deeply and I have seen the eyes but I am not able to make decision due to personal regressive mind-set. And I am actually wasting my heart somewhere else.

 

After a while I feel relationship goals changes from person to person. Some still run for lust or looks while some just wants commitments. For me its mix of both somewhat. I have emotional needs now much much more than anything else. Loneliness is something which freaks me out. I just need more love and time. I think most of people might agree with me that what I feel I need is more important than other things we get in relationship. But how to get out of rut we land up if we make wrong choices. I keep trying to get out and I feel like I am going more deep. It’s like a quicksand, the relationship of hearts I mean. The more you try to come out and throw your hands around the more deep it pulls you inside.     

 

There are times when we fall down and we don’t have strength to get back up. I heard this line on YouTube video. The void, the emptiness in our life so pitch black that we can’t see our own hands in the darkness. Life throw at us the situations where we have no control. We meet and see people who make us miserable. We have two choices then. Either we get depressed and get angry and frustrated or we move on. Sadness goes only with time. There is no switch on and off button. But we just have to make up our mind that no matter what I will not let the situation or this blankness overwhelm me.

 

One poem I always keep repeating in my mind 

“Once more into the fray, 

to the last good fight I will ever know, 

Live and die on this day, 

Live and die on this day.”

 

Life is a challenge. And no matter what and how talented we are or how rich or poor, we will always get in this rut of hearts. And I will keep scratching the sides of this pit to come out even if I lose my fingers doing it, I will scratch the hell out of this pit. 

Bond of pain

What is hurt!!! 

 

What is the threshold to give into pain..

 

How much can we take more..

 

Is pain just mind set..

 

A year back I tested my physical pain threshold. I almost screamed and felt I will die. I underwent a tattoo making job on my back. When the needle worked on my backbone and my whole back was covered in ink and blood I knew I can bear it much more. I haven’t reached my threshold yet. Sometimes extreme craziness can make you come out stronger. I underwent the 5 hour tattoo job; and in between so many times I felt like giving up but one thought came to my mind among so many that were running.

 

What is more painful. Physical or emotional. The pain of my body will recover. I will be ok in few days or at most months. This physical pain will go away. But what about my heart. The pain I feel in my heart. It will remain. So just keep going through this pain. Maybe at some point this will make heart shut up. 

 

I guess people who give themselves physical pain feel the same. The thought might be to numb the heart with pain on body. To keep mind occupied with injury. But then injury of heart keeps bleeding and never actually fills up.

 

People with inked skin are sometimes looked upon as freaks and socially unstable. I understand the weirdness people feel about one’s who are ready to underwent that kind of extreme pain. But then one’s who are ready to go through it are not afraid of physical pain. I myself now feel more related to one with tattoos. It feels like a exclusive club. The bond of pain. I am not talking about the small ones like rose or butterfly. They are just show off purpose. I hate the show off tattoos. For me they are meant to be laughed upon. For me full body or big size tattoos are the real ones. My own covers half of my back. And I am already thinking of a new one on my left arm. I want people to feel I am weird and freak. I wish they have guts to say so on my face.

 

I have few things to say about pain of heart but I guess it will take few more days to gather my courage. That is the one which is really hard to talk about. I am in such a mess right now.

 

GOD please guide…..

Just looking at guru dutt…..

After a long time I am writing today. Lost mood to write for a short while I guess. It’s not something I wish to do but then I guess there is time when one needs to get away from things he/she likes to get the necessary lack of oxygen. I hope you understand my meaning. When we stop doing what we like to do and let the time lapse either we try to get back to it, like a person drowning in water trying get at surface for some bits of oxygen to live or we let it go completely. My case; rush to reach the surface before it’s too late. I think this is the only way to let my mind remain sane.

 

Why today? I started passing time on YouTube like normal days and ended up listening to music from Guru dutt’s movies. I don’t know why but this is one person I would have loved to meet. Few days back while sitting with my close friends; I just asked them if by any chance we get chance to go back in history who would they like to meet. Just one of those stupid top off my mind questions. My list will be long but frankly top six:

 

1.       Guru Dutt.

2.       Sahir ludhanvi.

3.       Faiz ahmed faiz

4.       Mirza Ghalib

5.       Nathuram Godse.

6.       Shiv kumar batalvi

 

Watching the video from Kaagaz ke phool and listening to song “Dekhi zaman ki yaari” made me feel soooo sick. I felt like going to fresh room and puking. I mean I am among those; who can get puking feeling on things I find most horrifying and disgusting and similarly on the one’s I find most admiring and amazing. Being a poetry lover and trying to listen to best of poetry; and usually end up feeling like this. Being able to write poetry is the highest gift of God. For me, poets are on the very top of pyramid of creative thinkers and artist. I am in awe of poets. Guru Dutt was not a poet off course but the way he made his movies revolve around poetry of greats like Sahir make me feel so oversentimental inside. The depth he showed actually made the poem come alive on screen. 

 

I myself would love to write poetry and trust me I do try, but I am so-so bad that I can’t even imagine to share. My dairy will be burned either on my funeral pyre or I will burn it myself before; hell yeah. But, when I listen to people like, sahir, ghalib, faiz, firaaq, majaz etc I feel so sick. I mean the level of pain and depth of their writing is so intense it takes my breath away. The sick feeling last whole day. I also try to avoid writing poetry too much as I get depressed. I mean I can understand why poets die so young so often or commit slow suicide by drinking away. So many examples of poets becoming alcoholic. And it’s all understandable. They write from their hearts.

 

I feel so sad at missing the chance to meet these amazing poets. They are immortal for me. Life and death will happen but the poetry they gave will forever remain. I just hope God listens to me and allow me to have a chance to meet them. I will just sit in front of them and keep looking at them, I will not speak or talk but prefer to just look and God I hope without crying. My head will be running with their writing and I am 100% sure to choke in my throat. My tears will just fall.   

 

Are we asking enough??

Today I am going to write about the topic that has been running in my mind for past few weeks. I frankly was not sure if I should talk about it publicly or just keep my thoughts to myself. But then I realised that by not talking I am actually doing what I think is not the right thing. I should write it down. Maybe it might prevent one person from doing what I was about to do a year back only. I didn’t had courage and I was scared and backed off but not many are so lucky.

 

Are we asking enough.

 

There are times in life when everything is lost. We face total failure. We fall down so hard that we give up hope of standing up again. We walk around smiling and laughing and we are scared about what other’s might think about us. We don’t wish to lose face so we start wearing a mask to cover our sentiments. Then we come back home when no one is seeing us, we sit in the dark room scared to turn on the light so that to avoid seeing our own face in mirror. I faced it. I went through it. I was so sad and unhappy that I had to wash my face ten times while in bath to make sure no signs of sadness and tears remain. I started drinking very heavily every night, sometimes 10-12 nights in a row to calm myself and to sleep. Then the moment which I am happy, came and went away. I sat in darkness with my whisky glass and instead of putting water I had poison in it. I kept looking at it and wanted to drink in one single gulp. It touched my lips and went back on table so many times. I cried and cried and cried but couldn’t drink it.

 

                                                   

 

I know I developed cold feet and lacked guts. But yes I am happy I lacked it. Otherwise I would have finished this wonderful life that day. I am not ashamed about not doing it that day but I am ashamed that I actually thought about it. But that’s not the point I wish to make by writing this long story. My point is actually ‘ why didn’t anyone observed my false mask’. I wanted someone to see me in the condition I was in. few of my friends knew and family knew. But then we need someone to step up and support. Someone to pour our heart too. I think being around someone sad helps a lot. We have to take time out for such friends. I am sure I would have resisted to share but then at times one does feel like talking.

 

In the end, I will just say, we have to fight our own demons. No one will come. I had to fight my depression with my own mind and heart. I do feel it coming back again and again at times but I will not give up the fight. I will always have open ears for such friends who need someone to talk and I will keep calling those whom I feel might be going through something bad. Some might talk some might not but my phone will keep calling. And most important, never again will my whisky glass have anything other than water and ice. 

 

 

                                                 

 

Confused..

Am I the only one or many more like me face this kind of problem.

 

Last few weeks I have been going through such a torture. Some weekends when I am in Shimla, I go to mall road and sit in my favourite café to work on my novel. But last few times, I am not able to write more than a page. Forget a page, paragraphs and my mind is blank. I just keep looking at screen of my laptop. I look around and I see all the people sitting and busy doing their own things. I see outside the window and I see happy people walking on mall road completely carefree. I look back at my screen and nothing comes to my mind. Like an idiot I am just looking around.

 

God I hope it’s not going to last long.

 

 

Made few new friends online. I feel so happy checking my google plus account. The number of such talented and beautiful people. Some such wonderful pics people post and such great quotes. And I wonder how some manage to write such lovely blogs and poetry. Just wow.

 

Why I am writing all this I don’t know. Sometimes writing is much easier to do than talking or saying things. People who are prone to go into shell, people with high emotional instability; bottom-line people like me must keep on writing.

 

Don’t you feel, Internet is the new “voice of sky”. Just write something and throw it online. And wait if somewhere someone responds. It’s like prayers we say by looking up at sky. We whisper it and let it float, up toward the clouds and we wait for a voice to boom. We feel it is coming from sky but it’s more likely our heart talking to our head. The answer we are searching, comes to our mind and we feel as if nature is responding to our thoughts. How natural and beautiful it is. But now, nature I feel is being replaced by internet. We pour out our heart more and more online and wait for that ping of response. I remember when my life completely broke down 4 years ago. I was devastated with grief and lost everything. Night after night I just kept awake and kept looking toward the ceiling of my house. I started visiting the online help groups anonymously seeking words of advice. I was praying to God off course, but I also found solace from strange chat ids. Now I am getting more hooked to internet and more comfortable with idea of letting my thoughts float toward the new sky and maybe response comes via a satellite or undersea cable. I just keep wondering.

Taj mahal

Today family trip have Taj mahal. One of the wonders of the world. But I am coming for the first time unlike my family which has seen the same earlier too.

I have lots of mixed feelings. I don’t know how so many confusing thoughts can come in one single person’s mind. But still. I am excited to see the monument of love. Love which surpassed all limits I guess. A king who almost emptied all his state’s coffer for one single monument. A king who is said to have cut off hands of thousands of workers, so that they can never again build such a unique monument. How easy was for kings to make a point. In a single stroke he painted his love as unique and unparalleled but at what cost. The cost of blood and sweat. I just can’t take imagine something else when I see the marble of Taj but blood. For me its colour is red and thinking all this has made my mood cold. Anyhow for my family sake will keep a cheerful face. 

The route was good till we reached Agra city. The highway is good even if not without bumps. But good to see things improving in India even if on snail pace. City is horrible. Cleanliness is far off and traffic is horrible. Smell and garbage all over the city. Feel so ashamed to see tourist from globe coming to see Taj and taking pics of garbage. This is what India’s looks to them. Sad.

Electricity is major problem in UP. My hotel room has power back up but it has tripped almost 5 times in half an hour. Tourist please make sure you take hotel with power backup. Also, no Wi-Fi in my room only in lobby.

But still positives must be seen and we Indians do find happiness even in most trying places. Hotels are ok and one can find cheap price wise also, even when I did last minute booking. Funny thing is we are 5 from one family and staying in 3 different hotels. Can you imagine one family and three different hotels? Talk of changing middle class lifestyles among generation. 

Any tourist coming first time, I suggest take a good taxi driver from Delhi itself and don’t plan to depend on local tour operator. Try a good tour operator from Delhi only. Hotels online can be booked or preview can be checked. I did my booking online itself.

The Taj. Well, it did looked dull to me. I think pollution and global warming had effects on its marble. The beauty is fading with time. I guess like the love the king had for his queen, the time fades away all the memories and symbols of love. Looking at it made me confused. What was the point of killing so many innocents and cutting their hands meant? Did the dead queen, whose last wish was for such a monument had no heart. Sorry, but I can only recall the Sahir’s poem,  

The Taj, mayhap, to you may seem, a mark of love supreme
You may hold this beauteous vale in great esteem;
Yet, my love, meet me hence at some other place!

How odd for the poor folk to frequent royal resorts;
‘Tis strange that the amorous souls should tread the regal paths
Trodden once by mighty kings and their proud consorts.
Behind the facade of love my dear, you had better seen,
The marks of imperial might that herein lie screen’d
You who take delight in tombs of kings deceased,
Should have seen the hutments dark where you and I did wean.
Countless men in this world must have loved and gone,
Who would say their loves weren’t truthful or strong?
But in the name of their loves, no memorial is raised
For they too, like you and me, belonged to the common throng.

These structures and sepulchres, these ramparts and forts,
These relics of the mighty dead are, in fact, no more
Than the cancerous tumours on the face of earth,
Fattened on our ancestor’s very blood and bones.
They too must have loved, my love, whose hands had made,
This marble monument, nicely chiselled and shaped
But their dear ones lived and died, unhonoured, unknown,
None burnt even a taper on their lowly graves.

This bank of Jamuna, this edifice, these groves and lawns,
These carved walls and doors, arches and alcoves,
An emperor on the strength of wealth, Has played with us a cruel joke.
Meet me hence, my love, at some other place.

Must listen to in actual Urdu language to get the pain and anguish depicted in the poem from my one of the most favourite poet of all times.

The one thing I hate the most also was happening around, saw a lot of morons trying to take pics with foreigner.  Especially with white folk’s. I just don’t understand the white skin syndrome which these jerks have. Off course they were not forcing but some were insisting enough. The poor white people were obliging by clicking pics but it looked so stupid. This show the masculine idiotic mentality that these dickheads have. They think white women are easy and sex maniacs just because they prefer to wear small dress in unbearably hot Indian summer and there women who I am sure will prefer to wear the same but because of social dictate are not able to wear. Jerks.

Overall tour was fine enough; but I was somehow not very contented like I am after a long distance travel. Something didn’t clicked for me on this one. Even if second day I was alone and had time for my own exploration of Agra fort without my family; which is the way I prefer. This way I feel more peaceful minded and my thoughts are not disturbed by random comments and distractions. I like to walk among the history I was visiting with my mind wondering into the themes; Like the king must have seen in the eyes of his subjects, the life of soldier standing on walls looking at vast open jungle that must have existed then around the fort, the servants running inside the palace carrying secret messages and gossips, the Queen with all her beauty, the whole picture running in front of my eyes. I love it. 

Well, that’s for this trip and waiting for next travel to begin. I am thinking of going to Dharamshala for a few days next week itself.   

Pics of agra fort:

Bus travels

I think since childhood i preferred bus travel over train. And when I started working, air travel looks and feels best. But then when i have chance to travel by road i still love bus. These days it has become so frequent that i get tired of it. But few times some incidents keep happening and the scenes make me remain hungry for more. 

Month back I was traveling to chamba from shimla and time it takes for bus is 16 hours. I started at morning 7am and reached at night9pm. It was damn tiring but was full of exictment that i lost time many times. The steep valley on one side and huge mountains with lush green grass and long trees. Himachal has the toughest roads to travel and really burns a person out. This trip to chamba i remember not only for the beauty but sheer stupidity and bizzarness also. I was on bus and this Shepard from upper hills came inside and was carrying a fully grown goat, he actually had to go some place for few minutes when the bus stopped and he asked me to take care of the goat and made me handle its leash till then. The goat and me both keep on lookingat each other till the time he came back. I just couldn't keep off my smile for next half an hour just thinking about it. 

Then this time was going to kullu region and a young newly married lady came and seated herself next to me, she started talking about her hard life in village and poor conditions. I felt really sorry hearing it all and thought how fortunate i am. I belive no matter how much we grow and how much we earn but travel by bus will still make us live and feel real life. The people we meet and see tell us how fair and unfair life can be. I still keep feeling that bus travel keeps me grounded and makes me smile everytime no matter how much tiresome it might feel. Also, some experiences have been so romantic that i miss them. I was in second year of my graduation in chandigarh. This girl who was in university and obviously elder by couple of years, use to take same bus as mine from one stop ahead of me. Our eyes started to meet and i become her protecter in over crowded bus. She will always stand next to me with her back touching my chest and my arms will keep her secure from crowd. We never shared a word but for almost a year we travelled daily at same time. This might sound stupid but that time was super romantic to me. I still think of her sometime. Well lets see what buses hold for me in future.