I have a job where I see lazy laid back officials, Ignorant fools who cant seem to get anything right and ass kissing idiots who just cant help sticking their nose in every matter.
And then there is my boss.
A big notice on the office board reads in bold, office hours shall now be from 930am to 610 pm, a wind brushes its corner up for a second and then passes a figure right past it. At 830 in the morning he walks up to his chair, opens up his laptop, places his left elbow on the table, resting his head on the hand of the same arm and strategically places his finger infront of his teeth. As the screen of his INBOX pops open...
His day has begun
Biting on his fingernails, staring at lines of gesture and urgency, his eyes widen and narrow at figures and deadlines. They look as if they are about to drop any second but that isnt sleep taking over, its just the way he looks, gives him the gentle yet cunning image. He sits there with his phone of a way beyond obsolete model kept at such a distance that the moment it rings, it is snatched from the outside world and taken into his own. His workaholic world
And as the day turns to night, he makes his calls, settles his bills, gives his reports and is up for more but alas there is one call that he cannot attend, his better half that keeps him sane. Its 8pm and his drug has not worn off, he can have more and still stand straight. With a few soft words and a tender touch he sends his last mail and heads back home.
But in his sleep too he settles his deals and has executive meals, staples his tenders and licks his envelopes. Waiting to see a new dawn of the day.
For he is all work and no play.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Saturday, September 25, 2010
The bricks in the wall
Staring at the moments of the past and living them in my dreams. That is all there is left of my memories. And somehow, I seem to come across them a lot more often than before. Probably because the moment to live in nomore comes by that easy. All that Im surrounded by is a routine of Picking myself up in the morning and dropping of at night.
Clouded by the greed of money, life seems to have brought me to a dead end where I may do nothing but stare at the shades of red on the bricks before me. Fresh new bricks and discolored old ones, some have spiders crawling on them and some seem to be scratched upon. This is my tube of discolored dreams that has made me lean my neck up high and search for a way over the top of this dead end. Or should I try breaking a hole and squeezing through ? That I must decide. I may even find this spot comfortable and stay here, forgetting the lovely shapes of the clouds that the open sky offered me and choose to let these rectangles shape me.
Clouded by the greed of money, life seems to have brought me to a dead end where I may do nothing but stare at the shades of red on the bricks before me. Fresh new bricks and discolored old ones, some have spiders crawling on them and some seem to be scratched upon. This is my tube of discolored dreams that has made me lean my neck up high and search for a way over the top of this dead end. Or should I try breaking a hole and squeezing through ? That I must decide. I may even find this spot comfortable and stay here, forgetting the lovely shapes of the clouds that the open sky offered me and choose to let these rectangles shape me.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
The Mind of A Married Man
He was startled from his sleep as he yanked open his eyes to reality.
It had been another dream.
Lifting himself from the depths of slumber he sat up on his bed and looked out onto the window that glistened in the moonlight and the drops of rain. As the sound of thunder bellowed through his room, he looked on the other side of his bed and saw her sleeping.
She had always been there.
He couldn't remember the last time he had slept alone on his bed, staring at the stars or listening to a classic song. He would always have to tuck himself in and turn off the lamp because 'they' needed a good night's sleep for tomorrow.
He got out of bed and headed to another room. Inside the room in the corner was a crib that housed a little baby as he was fast asleep in his own world of dreams.
He would now always be there too.
He let his finger press on his wedding ring and make a deep impression on his skin, quietly thinking of the decisions he had made to be what he was today. Many years back, his life had been something else, he had been someone else. He would share his partners and share his cigarettes and today he was sharing the mortgage and sharing the bed. He was a pawn in the pre-defined plan of life where he was playing his part as it as written in the script. Most of us do it, he thought, why should he be any different ?
Soon, this thought would also vanish and he would be back in the mazes of life, too busy to worry of who he was and what he was doing. This all would be just another dream. But then he thought to himself, He was only going to live this one life, he would never be able to jump off a plane, due to her fear of heights nor would he ever travel to the hills, because of her motion sickness and he would never be able to be with another woman, well for obvious reasons. With these thoughts he marched to his room and decided. He was going to run away.
Run away from it all. Live the life of a hippie, a renegade, a tourist, whatver he wanted and with whoever he wanted. He would go climb Mt. Everest one day and even be able to watch the sun set in Japan and do all of this as a free man. As he marched on to the bathroom to pack his stuff, he stopped by a photograph. A photograph of himslef and her, holding their son on the day he was born. He looked at the glow on her face and the tiny face of his son. His eyes were barely opening and her's were full of tears. And as for him, he hadn't smiled like that in years. That day he was a father and a proud one too. He had something to live for. His shoulders dropped and his face lightened, his eyes felt weaker and his heart felt lighter, he was tired and weary, maybe someother day he would make his escape.
Quietly, making no sound to ensure the baby did not wake up, he slipped into his bed. And as he was about to head back to sleep to dismiss his thoughts and think of morning's breakfast, he kissed her on the cheek and said, 'Thank You' and then he closed his eyes.
It had been another dream.
Lifting himself from the depths of slumber he sat up on his bed and looked out onto the window that glistened in the moonlight and the drops of rain. As the sound of thunder bellowed through his room, he looked on the other side of his bed and saw her sleeping.
She had always been there.
He couldn't remember the last time he had slept alone on his bed, staring at the stars or listening to a classic song. He would always have to tuck himself in and turn off the lamp because 'they' needed a good night's sleep for tomorrow.
He got out of bed and headed to another room. Inside the room in the corner was a crib that housed a little baby as he was fast asleep in his own world of dreams.
He would now always be there too.
He let his finger press on his wedding ring and make a deep impression on his skin, quietly thinking of the decisions he had made to be what he was today. Many years back, his life had been something else, he had been someone else. He would share his partners and share his cigarettes and today he was sharing the mortgage and sharing the bed. He was a pawn in the pre-defined plan of life where he was playing his part as it as written in the script. Most of us do it, he thought, why should he be any different ?
Soon, this thought would also vanish and he would be back in the mazes of life, too busy to worry of who he was and what he was doing. This all would be just another dream. But then he thought to himself, He was only going to live this one life, he would never be able to jump off a plane, due to her fear of heights nor would he ever travel to the hills, because of her motion sickness and he would never be able to be with another woman, well for obvious reasons. With these thoughts he marched to his room and decided. He was going to run away.
Run away from it all. Live the life of a hippie, a renegade, a tourist, whatver he wanted and with whoever he wanted. He would go climb Mt. Everest one day and even be able to watch the sun set in Japan and do all of this as a free man. As he marched on to the bathroom to pack his stuff, he stopped by a photograph. A photograph of himslef and her, holding their son on the day he was born. He looked at the glow on her face and the tiny face of his son. His eyes were barely opening and her's were full of tears. And as for him, he hadn't smiled like that in years. That day he was a father and a proud one too. He had something to live for. His shoulders dropped and his face lightened, his eyes felt weaker and his heart felt lighter, he was tired and weary, maybe someother day he would make his escape.
Quietly, making no sound to ensure the baby did not wake up, he slipped into his bed. And as he was about to head back to sleep to dismiss his thoughts and think of morning's breakfast, he kissed her on the cheek and said, 'Thank You' and then he closed his eyes.
If I were truthful to you ...
If I were truthful to you, I would tell you that it has been nice knowing you but I will never call once I've stopped seeing your face everyday. I would also tell you that your status messages on Facebook are lame and so are you. I would tell you that you are so full of yourself and hearing your name on other people's lips and minds gives you a rush that is replaced by no drug. You thrive on your image and gorge upon your admiration, going deeper into the abyss of your narcissism.
If I were truthful to you, I would tell you that you can't write a word of creativity and you're just a sham who wishes to be loved and you're ignorant of your flaws and your weaknesses. You have only been treated as a child because you only wish to be one, but little do you know that like every child has to grow old and lose the attention to a new one who is cuter, sweeter and maybe who can even write.
If I were truthful to you, I would tell that I love you sometimes but always never. I would tell you that I have dreams of another each day and I am carried to worlds where the Sun dances with the hay and the cure for cancer is not far away.
If I were truthful to you, I would tell you to stop living your life for one soul for there are many waiting to open yours, I would tell you that you can imagine your life alone and that you can be known by your name and not by your kin's. That it is not too late to dream and it is too early to lay down your lives.
If I were truthful to you, I would ask you to tell me the truth and make me feel like I deserved to know something and not just believe something.
Alas, I can't do that for the world will also know and think of me as a bad person...
So let truth not prevail
Let us hide in this veil
Be silent and shut our mouths
Till through the gaps,secrets pour out
If I were truthful to you, I would tell you that you can't write a word of creativity and you're just a sham who wishes to be loved and you're ignorant of your flaws and your weaknesses. You have only been treated as a child because you only wish to be one, but little do you know that like every child has to grow old and lose the attention to a new one who is cuter, sweeter and maybe who can even write.
If I were truthful to you, I would tell that I love you sometimes but always never. I would tell you that I have dreams of another each day and I am carried to worlds where the Sun dances with the hay and the cure for cancer is not far away.
If I were truthful to you, I would tell you to stop living your life for one soul for there are many waiting to open yours, I would tell you that you can imagine your life alone and that you can be known by your name and not by your kin's. That it is not too late to dream and it is too early to lay down your lives.
If I were truthful to you, I would ask you to tell me the truth and make me feel like I deserved to know something and not just believe something.
Alas, I can't do that for the world will also know and think of me as a bad person...
So let truth not prevail
Let us hide in this veil
Be silent and shut our mouths
Till through the gaps,secrets pour out
Thursday, July 1, 2010
About the last night
Nostalgia creeps over me in spasms and leaves in a disarray of emotions as I witness the final hours of the darkness before the blinding light. Its a calm emotion that sweeps over my thoughts and one day all of these sights and sounds will be sweeped away for new ones. These 4 years, being confined to the dimension of 3m x 4.5m of space seemed to fly by and now as the last moments tick away, I can just feel gratitude for the time that I have wasted so happily in this place.
Wasted lives, wasted opportunities
With friends, with souls with unknown foes.
With sinking feelings and twinkling toes.
I hope the next occupant of this lair gives it as much as love as I have. It is a sad break up. Im glad that my room has no emotions, else I would have have leaks in every corner. My bags are still unpacked for I dont wish to leave this room, its a part of me as much I have been a part of it. When I am gone, the dust that remains will remember me too and so will the grills on the open window. The gloom of the red light will shine on till it is hurled into an oblivion. The crackling switchboard and the shrieking fan can bear witness to empty stands of the rack on my wall.
My adorned bottles of victory and bliss will guard this haven before they fall but till then their hollow shells can swell in peace. The echoes of the songs that shall never be played still linger in the holes where creatures reside and anthems to odes can keep their place before a tune can shame their face. And the view of the hills will be remembered as they took me to the forests and the stench of petrol in the scent of pine. Keeping these memories will keep me alive but one day they will vanish. And so it is useless to live on dialysis and pray for a miracle to save from the pills.
It is for this reason, I proclaim that this is the day I died.
Where it said on my grave:
"Let this be a reminder that there were times when humanity gave way to insanity."
Friday, June 18, 2010
Things that dominate my current life ...
Hair
In the past four years of my college life, this mane of mine has grown and fallen with each passing season, the amount of shampoo, oil and conditioners that have been emptied for this noble cause are inumerable and yet the problem is incurable. The problem of making my hair straight and silky, just like every other chinki's. Yes, I have straightened my hair once in my high school days and a few guys did say that I looked 'hot', I begged to differ.
Corel Draw
Discovering this miraculous tool of creating small sized imagination into huge posters smashed upon my forehead the day I realised for the umpteenth time that when the going gets tough, I must get going. Disgusted by the complexity of Photoshop, I found a home in Corel that has given me the best results till today and has never ceased to surprise me everytime I open it (or everytime it crashes). For those who never knew what designing is, I suggest you look into it to discover the hidden workaholic in you.
Porcupine Tree
This band in my head always seemed to be a band that comes for folk festivals on special occassions and played to disintereted/idle groups of people but frankly, they have created music so much in the last decade that their songs play to this very moment as I write this. I am priviliged to have travelled 2000kms to see them play live and although I distinctly remember having a horrible cold while screaming out their name, I wont forget that fleeting moment where I was one with them.
Subway Sandwiches
They came to my life as filth and food for the sick but as I grew out of the garbage in the mess, I found new love in the sandwiches of New York, the number of permutations one can have with vegetables, sauces, meats and breads. Phenomenal. I might have more than a 100 subs in the past 3 months now. I even went on a subway diet once to see if it really worked, but I realised that ordering pizza side by side might just not help.
The hunger to splurge
I might have bugged my old folks more than ever in my entire life in the name of money. I can't imagine I used to be a miser once who kept a record of every penny spent, even if it was giving it to a beggar! Now, every ruppee earned is a ruppee splurged upon, be it on food, clothes, food, autorickshaws (Thanks for not giving me a car!) and food again. They say I will learn the true value of money once I start earning, but I have a bad feeling that by the time I realise the value, Ill be in a lot of debt to devalue it.
In the past four years of my college life, this mane of mine has grown and fallen with each passing season, the amount of shampoo, oil and conditioners that have been emptied for this noble cause are inumerable and yet the problem is incurable. The problem of making my hair straight and silky, just like every other chinki's. Yes, I have straightened my hair once in my high school days and a few guys did say that I looked 'hot', I begged to differ.
Corel Draw
Discovering this miraculous tool of creating small sized imagination into huge posters smashed upon my forehead the day I realised for the umpteenth time that when the going gets tough, I must get going. Disgusted by the complexity of Photoshop, I found a home in Corel that has given me the best results till today and has never ceased to surprise me everytime I open it (or everytime it crashes). For those who never knew what designing is, I suggest you look into it to discover the hidden workaholic in you.
Porcupine Tree
This band in my head always seemed to be a band that comes for folk festivals on special occassions and played to disintereted/idle groups of people but frankly, they have created music so much in the last decade that their songs play to this very moment as I write this. I am priviliged to have travelled 2000kms to see them play live and although I distinctly remember having a horrible cold while screaming out their name, I wont forget that fleeting moment where I was one with them.
Subway Sandwiches
They came to my life as filth and food for the sick but as I grew out of the garbage in the mess, I found new love in the sandwiches of New York, the number of permutations one can have with vegetables, sauces, meats and breads. Phenomenal. I might have more than a 100 subs in the past 3 months now. I even went on a subway diet once to see if it really worked, but I realised that ordering pizza side by side might just not help.
The hunger to splurge
I might have bugged my old folks more than ever in my entire life in the name of money. I can't imagine I used to be a miser once who kept a record of every penny spent, even if it was giving it to a beggar! Now, every ruppee earned is a ruppee splurged upon, be it on food, clothes, food, autorickshaws (Thanks for not giving me a car!) and food again. They say I will learn the true value of money once I start earning, but I have a bad feeling that by the time I realise the value, Ill be in a lot of debt to devalue it.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
From the Chief Editor’s Desk
To form a fist and make a fight
May take some guts
To yield your pen and choose to write
Would have more ifs and buts…
My contributions for the PECMAG began way back in the days when I would dread the terms of forging, fitting, carpentry. When the afternoons were spent running in the scorching sun of the athletic ground and most importantly, when I was still realizing the term of an ‘engineer’. Four years have gone by since those days and now as I face the EXIT gates of this college, I can’t help but look back at the years that have gone by as a part of PEC. The days when numericals would be too much to take and so I would begin to write on my laptop, letting my mind wander to the limitless possibilities outside this realm of my education. A world where snow would fall on my cheeks everyday and dwarves would scamper on leopards in the middle of dense green forests of an unknown land. And as I grew out of my shell of childish thoughts I learnt the responsibilities that come with each passing year of this college. Finally, on donning the badge of Chief Editor (yes there is also a badge!), I came to terms with the realization that this role is one that required an individual to love his words and hate his redundancy. And once again, I came face to face with the PECMAG, this one last and final time. This is a magazine that symbolizes the spirit of this college that is well known for its technical as well as cultural excellence, be it in the field of sports, music, dramatics, art or even social service. And it was my task to bring it all in the form of a few pages. The PECMAG became a dimension for me to experiment my love for creative writing and help inculcate that same interest in those who believe that they too can wield their pen and be ‘artists’ for a day instead of ‘engineers’. It has been an honour for this ‘engineer’ to be involved in the endeavour of rediscovering the simple practice of reading and writing for all those who seemed to have lost it in the years of intense preparation to be in this college. As a bidding advice, all I can say is:
A for Apple, B for Ball, C for Cat
Vinayak Talwar
Final Year
Mechanical Engineering
2006-10
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