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remembering a time

i used to write and i remember a time i used to write it used to be a few years back years that seem like days yesterday was my friend's engagement we had a function lots of people and there was a party afterwards a few weeks back

uncertainty

all we crave for is a drop of certainty it is not like anything is certain you could die the next moment but still we cling on to our myths. the myth of certainty. we go to colleges to get degrees to make our future safe so we have a

Bombay

Today morning I woke up and had alcohol. My wife went somewhere, so I am alone here. Watched Mohanlal, and then the movie Bombay. Beyond the fights, it depicts a ton of things. A father's love for his kids. I married from a different religion. I don'

hierarchy

does the trees have hierarchy? does the tall tree look at the shrub and go, 'hey, you're small' and then the shrub wishes to itself, 'if only i was as tall as the big tree'. is it ego? it's not just humans,

are we living right?

have you ever wondered if this is the right thing to do? put on your clothes, take that two hour commute to a dreaded job? maybe you love your job, but do you? do you really love it? wouldn't you love to chill by the ocean in a

to be someone else

i tried to be someone else. yesterday i combed my hair, bought some shoes and talked to people. some talked something similar to what i talked, so i thought they were like me. so i drank with them and poured my soul to find out, when they were sober, they

why do we...

why do we write? why do we do the things we do? we need to question. question those around and question ourselves. importantly, question ourselves. for the people we least know is ourselves. we need to find why we do the things we do. for most are just to satisfy

friendly strangers or

when does someone stop being a stranger? what's the criterion? honesty sounds like a good criterion. to be just brutally honest, it feels weirdly good. to tell someone that you're messed up, and there's no silver lining. or maybe it's belief. that

articulation

great writing is just articulating stuff. it's weird that i cannot articulate anything. let's look at my day. started with going for a walk because some random book writer decided that going for walks are good and apparently all the great people in the world such

some days

on days like this, when it's noon and the sun still haven't shown its face and everything is slow and sluggish i wish to melt into the earth and become one with it. stationary, absolutely still. i wish i were a tree, so i can stay

forget

some days you forget who you were and sometimes you have no idea as to which place in time you are. i used to get worried about time deceving, lying, cheating and flowing between our fingers some days i crave to hold the time and to make it still but

reasons unfathomable

life is a weird journey. full of highs and lows for reasons unfathomable. i woke up low and am ending the day on a high, with betweens that were a mix of highs and low. nothing changed from morning till now. nothing whatsoever to make me feel better or worse.

guide me

is everything so dark, or is it just that that is the only thing i see? help me see light in darkness. hold my hand and guide me through this dark hour. be by my side and be the voice that guides me. guide me home with thy everlasting love.

hold my hand

i am afraid, alone and it's cold and dark. i am afraid of what the future holds for me, and i am afraid of all the demons hiding in the dark, waiting for me to reach that point in time where they are so they can pounce on

sailor

most days i wake up and wonder as to what i am doing with my life sailing in the ocean of life with no land in sight i hope a ship passes by and someone offers me help. i am afraid of the sea what if it gets really rough

what's expected?

what's expected of you? by yourself, by others? what are you living by? looking into the mirror, i wonder how much of me remains all of myself has died in fear and most of what is left is dreams of others. i've become insensitive and so

closures

i thought I should write a bit about closures. Closures are awesome. I mean, how many times does a function bring with it the data associated with it after it is called? I want to illustrate what I mean by bringing the data with it. function foo() { let x = 32;

drunk

we drank a lot today. it's not to forget. there's nothing much to forget. we drank because we could. and we will drink tomorrow. there's nothing to forget. but then, maybe it's the present. maybe we don't want to be

who are we

deep down, who are we? why is it that we are afraid to be who we are? our fear has caused us to loose touch with ourselves. and we have evolved and become a being strange. we are afraid of the society our peers, and the man who sells chocolates.

parts of me

i killed a part of me; maybe parts of me. i know of the writer in me whom i killed and i know of the painter in me that i killed. how many more lay dead within me? the result of my pride, my ego, my fear and all the

Forgiveness

I find myself in places where I am angry with people. I find mself in places where I can justify my actions but feel that others are wrong. The truth is, I am just as shit as everyone and everyone is just as shit as everyone else. We just feel

truth and lies

life is this strange affair that moves on and on/ it gives you illussion after illussion all the while hiding truth after truth/ time flies and yet time goes so slow you wish you were dead/ you mind plays tricks on you which has been bought by evolution/ lie after

(Untitled)

to be honest i don't have anything to write/ i don't even have a title for this/ but what the hell, i just felt like writing something/ so here is something

on lost innocence

each time i look into myself, i find myself missing the child/ he was what defined me/ i cherished the child/ i loved being the child/ i even called myself and loved it when someone called me like that/ they called me mon which means son in my language/ and

Accessibility

one of the major reasons for lack of productivity can be attributed to the accessibility of things/ the moment we are bored, we have at  our disposal infinite methods to get rid of our boredom and escape into/ this has limited our potential to introspect/ we no longer look into