The Lesser Valued Friendships

| Posted in , , , , , | Posted on 8:07 PM

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The Lesser Valued Friendships

I made friends
With the lonely corridor
On the first floor
At the far end
Of which I would stand
Sometimes and
Watch the others
Walk around everywhere,
Very busily,
And the little
Cuboid of cement
Beside the little kid’s
Computer lab,
Which I used to sit on
And play guitar
And just be
By myself, because
No one would
Come looking for me
There.
I also remember
The green circle table
In the library, almost
Squeezed
Between two shelves
Full of books,
Where I wrote one
Of my longest poems.

I also got to know
The huge tree
Behind the grey school wall:
I stared at it during classes
When I felt bored, and
Its leaves fluttered.
There was also
The brick that peered
From a defaced
Spot
In that wall,
And the huge white
Somethings
That I used to hide
Behind while
Playing hide and seek.
And then the stairs
That led into
And out of
The auditorium –
Both the flights
At different ends –
With a slope
On the other side
From the railings
Of which,
I would slide down
From time to time.
And then the
Steps of the foyer…
There are too many
Of them to recall,
Each a friend of mine,
In some unspoken way.

And
I am glad
I could cherish
These less acknowledged,
Lesser valued friendships,
For however short
A time, because
I don’t think I’ll ever
Find friends like these
Again.

But thanks to
The security guards
Patrolling around
My friends,
If someone like me
Were to find
Themselves in need
Of some quiet space
To be themselves,
Or to sort things out
Inside their head,
My friends
Will not be able
To come to their rescue
As they did for mine.

Now that I am leaving
School,
I do not think
I will be seeing them
For a long time to come.
But if you can get inside
The school gate,
Get past the
Worthless security guards
That roam around,
And see my friends,
Do not hesitate to tell them
I said hi;
I have a feeling
They might
Like to know I was
Thinking about them.
X-x-X

FREAKIN' FLYING UNDERWEAR!

| Posted in , , , , , , | Posted on 2:34 AM

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  I had to say something. I REALLY had to say something... but I forgot. And I'm in no mood to retrace thoughts, so I'll just let it be.
  I have my Maths pre-board on Monday... and for some reason, I'm not in the mood to revise. Now, usually, Maths is one of the subjects I don't really mind revising, but today's different. This is rather odd. I like Maths, I really do. But I don't feel like it. Probably the fact that I've already gone through the syllabus at least twice or thrice might make an iota of difference, but still it's no excuse, right? Sigh. No maths, please.
  Moving on, I was just thinking about... AH! WAIT! YES! I JUST REMEMBERED WHAT I HAD TO SAY!
  Ah. Okay. So.
  Here's the thing... I'm getting a lot of, say, random jazz from people. I mean, I don't really know how else to put it. It pertains more to people behaving awkwardly than anything else, and let's just say I find that sort of behaviour rather 'random' and jazz, if you know much of it, gives more leeway to experimentation with time signatures and sounds somewhat random (think 5/4, for instance, or 7/8!), hence 'random jazz'. And I really like jazz, too!
  Now, people acting awkwardly isn't really a problem because, for the most part, people think I'm weird, which totally justifies their acting weirdly around me. Well, it doesn't exactly, but whatever, it's cool; I'm okay with that. What I'm not okay with is, say... me going up to the person who's giving me random jazz and asking them, 'Hey, why're you giving me random jazz?' and them replying, 'WHAT? Who told you this is random jazz? It's full on freaking metal, man! Bang your head to it!' That's weird, right?
  But again, it's cool. I'd choose to believe that the fault lies within me, primarily because you don't have to go out hunting for people to blame; it makes things really easy (unless you're obviously not at fault, then it's somewhat different). So what's happening at the moment? Not much. Nothing I can't handle really, but it's just... vague. It's like, I'm standing on my balcony and I see underwear flying in the sky! FREAKIN' FLYING UNDERWEAR. Blue, green, pink, white, redFLYING! 
  FREAKING. FLYING. UNDERWEAR.
  Tell me, how do you deal with that? It's not exactly a problem, per se... but seriously, flying underwear? What the fuck, right? Exactly how I feel at the moment. But let's recall a past instance for fun, right?
   
My friend calls me up when he's drunk, and tells me he's still pissed at me for dating a girl he had a crush on. It's been months since we've broken up, but he chooses this fateful night to call me up, only because he found a bottle of vodka that his friend procured from some shady source. Dainty, I say.
  'I'm still pissed with you for dating her, man. You shouldn't have dated her. I loved her.'
  'Dude, what the fuck? Are you serious? You saw how it ended, right?'
  'Yeah. And I'm very sorry it ended so badly and everything, but I'm still pissed off at you.'
  Following that ramshackle of a conversation, he proceeds to tell me he loves me. (Note at this point that I was conversing with a male friend.) I tell him to save his adulation for a time when I'm also inebriated, so as to be able to reciprocate appropriately (hopefully in the presence of many other females).  

That right there is an example of RANDOM JAZZ, and there's a lot more where that came from. Basically, let me just say that I hate it when people deliberately don't tell me something 'ugly' in attempt to not be rude, and in the process end up being more rude than they'd have initially been had they said it straight-out in the beginning. What is the problem with people being straight forward? Thankfully, I've never had the opportunity to tell another person to stop bugging me because I find them annoying, but I make no qualms about telling another person if I find them to be dumb, or arrogant, or homophobic (a male acquaintance was making too many penis jokes recently.)
  The very best of my friends I believe are the ones who can relentlessly abuse me for doing the wrong things that I've done. A friend of mine called me up recently and told me she hated me because I wasn't talking to her enough, and I appreciate her having done that. I get to hear the same thing about other people only their friends say it to me, which is a little weird. I'm exorbitantly bad at staying in touch, and I'll improve I'm sure, but if any one of my friends hates my guts for something I've done, I'd like it if they come and tell me so that we can sort it out, instead of being whiny little sissies who hold grudges. Oh, which reminds me, one of my friends said he had a grudge against me and I told him to grow the fuck up. He probably still has that grudge he was speaking of.

So here's what you should infer from this post: whatever you feel, just fucking say it. If you think saying it will make things worse, be assured that holding things back will make things worse in the long run.
  And I'm sure I have not done all of the things that I'm asking you to do. I've held back too, I've kept things to myself, I've been a whiny asshole who couldn't confront people. But I'm changing. And I hope you can change too, if you've been any of the things that I've been. Being able to tell people you don't like something that they've done is a nice feeling, very differently satisfying; you don't feel like that when you're bitching about something somebody else's done. 
  There is a friend I made recently... and when we were talking, she said, 'I guess you're someone I can share things with.' Then, for the next few minutes, I explained to her how I could be an asshole sometimes, and that there would be times when she'd want to choke the breath out of me, but that if she trusted me enough, we'd still be friends after all of that. And then I told her that if she were to ever find a fault with anything I had said or done, she should come up to me and tell it to me before telling her friends about it, because it'd make things easier to deal with. That's pretty epic, right?
  Are you secretly laughing at me for being so straightforward with a woman? Don't. She DID come and tell me when I made a mistake (I'm only human) and then I apologized to her and we sorted it out. See? So much better than freaking flying underwear!

But the downside of this is that it can actually have adverse consequences sometimes. For instance, I was speaking with this female and I remember mentioning, 'You're weird; I like you!' which she interpreted as me indirectly telling her that I have a crush on her. I'll save this story for some other, but for now, just know that this matter has been clarified. And with the exact result that I'd hoped for, no less. :)

ALSO. 

Did you seriously read all of this? Well, I must say I'm impressed. So here's a little treat for you, a little poem I just scribbled in ballad meter. I'll expand it someday if I want to, but I think I'll get back to Maths, now. :)



Out of Your Hair


Do tell if you would want me to,
I’ll get out of your hair
But without any anger or rue,
I do solemnly swear.

Do tell if you would want me to,
And do tell me if you can,
I’ll surely leave and bid adieu
For I’m no lingering man.

 Thank you for your time. Now I shall go study Maths. Derivatives? Or 3D perhaps. :)

Goodnight, y'all.
Peace out!

X-x-X


  

Your Callipygian Frame

| Posted in , , , | Posted on 8:47 PM

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Your Callipygian Frame

Did I say your callipygian frame,
Could put many women to shame?
Women who have worked hard for years,
On the arcs of their derrières.

Though this praise may be aesthetic,
I will not be apologetic:
The rest of you is just as nice,
And could equally as well, entice.

I just wish you would with your grace,
Leave me stumped with a gaping face—
But would you succeed if you did try?
There's not much that I can judge you by.

And saddening though that may be,
Someday I hope I know more of thee;
Till then timid glances would suffice—
The rest of you is just as nice.

(Though I should not be put to blame,
If found ogling your callipygian frame.)

X-x-X

Cal·li·pyg·ian [kal-uh-pij-ee-uhn] adj: Having beautifully round and well-shaped buttocks.

Now read it again.

Hat tip to Mayank Gulati for making me aware of the existence of such a word.
Thanks, buddy.

Sonnet XII

| Posted in , , , , , | Posted on 8:44 PM

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Sonnet XII

I would say this to you if my tongue would speak
The words I will it to: you are growing
More and more beautiful as time is flowing
Away. All its mere essences now reek
In quiet corners, unaware; it is bleak
In front of you, for you are not showing
Any resistance to its crude bestowing—
That brings dust to wind and the soul to eek.
But what would these ugly winds of age do
To you, whose beauty is secured, in part
Somewhere concealed, in part somewhere so true
That it needs no hiding for itself, for who
Is it that dares questions raise? It is your heart
Of course which all beauty holds (and your eyes too).


  X-x-X











My Passive Love Forlorn

| Posted in , , , , , , | Posted on 12:48 PM

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My Passive Love Forlorn


My passive love forlorn
Is by the borders strewn,
And so the wind gale’s charm,
Has been long away gone.

Now no more does her arm
Reach out to make me warm,
Nor now does she hold fears
Of what may bring me harm.

And her voice not in my ears
Rings; her face appears
Never in front of me.
My heart now only sears:

We're both alone though we,
May not truly happy be.  

X-x-X

Hello, people. I wrote this while revising Chemistry for my pre-pre-Board exam on Monday. I don't want to talk about Chemistry, so I'll just write something about the poem.
  It's my interpretation of the sonnet form, although instead of the popular iambic pentameter, this one's written trimeter. I chose trimeter because I wanted short lines (longer lines would demand more time), and because... well, I don't know, I felt like it.
  The rhyme scheme (aababbcbccdcdd) is loosely inspired by the Spenserian form of the sonnet, as in the quatrains are connected by a common rhyme that carries throughout the poem and is followed by a couplet. I went without another rhyme there ('dd' instead of 'ee') which was somewhat, in part, both like the Onegin and the Petrarchan form of the sonnet, as the last six lines form a sestet. 
   Now, as with most Spenserian sonnets, there is no problem corroborated in the first two quatrains and hence there is no soultion in the third and no conclusion in the ending couplet. This is just a sad poem, with no metaphors (as you'd find in Shakespeare's sonnets) and no volta (as you'd find in pretty much every other form of the sonnet).
   Finally, in terms of variations, lines 9 and 14 have weak endings (also called feminine or amphibrachic endings). Line 9 is enjambed into line 10, as is line 13 into 14. I have not particularly paid attention to all inverted foots, although in crude estimation, the second quatrain has a few of them (line 5 and line 6 begin with an inverted trochaic foot). Line 9 also has begins with an inverted foot; line 12 ends with an inverted foot. 

So there. Yes, I want to study English. Proper English, not what CBSE passes for as literature. I want people to understand that there's a lot more to poetry than just words. Poetry is not just big phrases and big words and big feelings - it is also very intricate, very subtle, and can be very tough to interpret. Keep these things in mind the next time you read a poem. And for the love of God, DON'T EVER tell me to write poems as stress busters. I mean, I fucking get it that I'm supposed to study and that I can get stressed but that in NO WAY implies that I should not be dedicated to what I'm doing.
   I love poetry. I don't write poetry to get chicks. I don't write it so that people look at me and go, 'He's a poet!' and I certainly don't write it for people who have no respect for it. It unnerves me to think what art has reduced to these days - stress busters. I don't really give a fuck if people understand me or what I'm writing, most of them think I'm a PSEUDO (special emphasis on the word because it sounds 'fancy') because I always talk poetically and I use expressions and metaphors that fly over their fucking heads like airplanes flying at over 35 thousand feet. The reason I use metaphors and similes while talking is because I use them all the time when I'm writing poetry and I'm subliminally writing poetry ALL THE TIME.
   In the past few months I have almost doubled the amount of poetry I wrote in the last two years. I don't even give a shit about posting it on my blog because what most people want to read is something easy: one of my friends even said, 'In today's stressful times, there's not much point of poetry you can't understand.' And he said that for Keats. I'm thankful that guy's dead... I mean Keats. He shouldn't have had to hear shit like that.
   So there, stressed people in a stressful world leading stressful lives: I do not care if you read poetry. I do not care if you understand it, I do not care if you interpret it wrongly. I do not care if you think I suck balls at it, and if I really do, I'll improve because I'll work at it without looking at it as a tool to relieve stress. Because I love poetry. I love reading it and I love writing it.
   All that being said... wait.


   BUAAAGGGHHHH!!!


   Sorry for the rant. You have no idea how nauseating it is to be with people who think I do it just for the fuck of doing it. It's weird, okay? REALLY weird. It's like guitarists can post pictures of themselves kissing their guitars with a caption that reads worse than a 5th Grade grammar exercise (and get a gazillion likes), and you're telling me I'm pseudo because I don't write like that? Because I don't post links to my blog on my facebook page and because I don't get a 100 likes? What horseshit.
   This has been doing a number on me for as long as I can remember. It's irritating to be around people like these. I've been way too distracted writing poetry, man. And why does this stress-buster thing crop up from time to time? Where would Shakespeare be if he wrote only to release stress? I'd rather be a delinquent of this age, I don't mind.
   What shit. I still have like 12 chapters to revise in 3 days. Goddammit. 
   But fuck it. I love poetry. I love it.

   AND!

   If you love it too, you will read this poem by Nizar Kabbani, called 'A Man who Transforms you into Poetry'. I have found it to be one of the few amazing ones I've read recently, although its deceptively simple. I'll also take this time to dedicate this to girl I had a crush on once, and consequently transformed into poetry. 
   Don't take any offence regarding the statements I made about understanding poetry if you did, because it's usually the shallow ones that don't get any sort of poetry, irrespective of whether it's tough or easy.
   I hope you like this. Read it here. :)


   Holy Sweet Jesus. 
   Chemistry, here I come.

Diamonds and Rust

| Posted in | Posted on 12:13 AM

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'We both know what memories can bringthey bring diamonds and rust.'                                                      Joan Baez, Diamonds and Rust
Quick update:
It's 12.06. Outside, it's raining; I can hear a medley of raindrops falling both softly and loudly on the street, as well as the lightning and thunder that sporadically accompany them. I have a Physics class tomorrow at either 7 or 9(there's an option). For most of my weekend classes I've preferred to attend the 7 o' clock class(don't ask why), but for tomorrow I'm thinking I'll attend the 9 o' clock class. Meh.
The rain stopped outside.
I have a Chemistry exam on 17th. I have studied only 2 chapters or so, out of a total 10. I don't feel like studying. I told a friend of mine recently that I was finding it harder to study as the days passed, too. Hmm.
The quote at the beginning of this post is from a song by Joan Baez, called Diamonds and Rust. I wanted to share it, though for no specific reason whatsoever. Go listen to it if you can.
So, yeah.
Pretty sucky this side.
I'll update when I'm feeling sane. Though no promises. None of poetry or fiction either, though I've written a lot these past few weeks—not exactly for public consumption, you see. No don't worry, not all of those are letters to ex-girlfriends; there is poetry too, though of a different kind. I've sent it to a few friends, I hope they like it.


It's raining again.


Anyway,
Kudos, yo.

Arrested Advent

| Posted in , , , , , , | Posted on 1:12 AM

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Fret not, oh dearie,
It may seem I entail a heinous crime,
But I'll be back within a moment's time:
In a blink, and a breath
I will appear in front of your sullen eyes
And save you from your sweet demise.
But if I do not emerge,
Lax your fingers and then count the stars
That lay hidden in the morning hours:
They will keep you,
As I swim across the raging, swirling seas,
That my talent and my daunting tease,
Finding my way back
To you - your heart, your sullen eyes
Warmer than a bright sunrise.
But rest assured,
We'll be together again, in time, as one
And bask beneath the golden sun;
I'll be back soon,
In a dormant breath, a blinked eye -
Love, I'll return within a sigh.

X-x-X

What's up, folks? How's it rolling? 12th Grade is fucking nuts; I'm dead inside and outside. Well, almost. Pardon me for my insolence.

 This poem is a special one-off only dedication to my blog, because I've been neglecting it like crazy for the past few months. And probably will continue to for the next half of this year too. No kidding.

But we'll kiss and make up, don't worry.



Ciao.


Cheese, Corn, Nausea - Tales of Growing Up

| Posted in , , , , , , | Posted on 12:33 PM

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I don't have any incentive for a personal post, or a poem or a fiction post. But I want to post something, even though I really don't see the point of posting [this]. Anyhoo, read on.

~

I have the sensitivity of a 5 year old (it says so in the About Me section of my blog too, I believe). In some cases I’m much worse than your average overprotective mother or your above-average clingy girlfriend, with terrible space problems and an even more terrible combination of being both equally cheesy as well as corny. But I’ve been working on it constantly, and I have improved drastically – not that you’d notice though, it’s a more internal sort of change – over the years, also because I had a girlfriend exactly like the one just described, which only made me realize how nauseating I could possibly be. It could also be because I’m a Cancerian (my girlfriend was one too), but this possibility I’ve eliminated, and I’ll get to why in just a moment.

I have to go out of my way here and digress a bit, to thank the few friends that helped me a lot; it wasn’t exactly about being cheesy or anything, though (because they kind of like it) - it’s slightly more personal than that. So yeah, without going down to the intricacies of it, I’d just like to say thank you, Kaali Maa and Her Ogre. You guys have been awesome. (Don’t worry, it’s an inside joke) {Note to reader: These people are Cancerian too, hence the elimination of said possibility in the preceding paragraph}.

So. Yeah. Where was I?

Ah. Sensitivity. I don’t believe I’ve ever told this to anyone (or so I think) – so I’ll include a Big Blogger Revelations tag down in the post tags – but I’ve always been the kind of guy who had only one friend. So whenever my friends would talk to their other friends, I’d get all crazy and everything. That’s probably because till the eighth grade I was a loner – the only people I spoke to were my then girlfriend (not the cancerian), her only female friend, and my only male best friend. So such a situation never did arise when my friends just drifted away and hung out with their other friends; it was creepy, yes, stop moaning about it already. I didn’t speak to people who didn’t speak with me, and after they were done speaking, I’d make no more attempts at continuing the conversation. That’s how I was.

From a situation like that, in the eleventh grade, I actually reached a stage where I had a whole group of friends, and that group sort of merged with more groups, so I wasn’t really a loner anymore (technically). So, the whole space issue thing has been resolved successfully by now. I remember a time when a friend texted me:

It’s not your fault - what if I don’t like your whiny ways?
I have to deal with it, no?

What I really wanted to text at that time, but didn’t, for reasons I can’t remember now, was:

No shit! I don’t like my whiny ways either!

So yeah. I got rid of my whiny ways and I’m proud of that – and I didn’t do it because I wanted a friend to stick around, I did it because I wanted to. I don’t change myself for others. [Renee, Oshmita -reading this? {And again, don’t worry – this one’s on the inside too}].

So, every once in a while, when it’s so bloody apparent that a friend of mine chooses somebody else over me – I let it go. Because hey, I need to get off their ass, too right? And they’re always there for me when I need them, so as long as I’m there for them, it doesn’t really matter who they look to, does it? What matters is that they’re happy, no? True that, bro. *Schizophrenic Hi5!*

X-x-X

Did you expect anything better? Be honest. 
Anyway, I'm still cheesy as shit when it comes to writing, if I want to be, that is. Wait till I fire up my next love story. *evil glare*


So, uh. Yeah.

| Posted in , | Posted on 2:01 PM

2

It's been a while since I've posted, right? Feels so weird going on Blogger and clicking on the New Post button after so long. But the good thing is that I'm still managing somehow. It's been about a month into 12th Grade - yes, our extra classes started about a month back - and I'm fried. It's so bloody tiring. I'm thankful to God there's only one year of this hellish cycle of classes, tests and more classes and more tests. I won't be dishonest enough to say I don't want this year to end as soon as possible - but then that would mark the beginning of a whole bunch of more things, so might as well enjoy this year while I still can.

I've been in a weird mood lately: part delirious, part focused, part bummed. I've got a slew of unwritten poems hovering in my head, a collection of short stories that I haven't had the time to write down and a whole bunch of songs that I haven't completed writing entirely. Ever since I got an acoustic guitar (more on that, later) I've written about 10 or 12 songs, with lyrics and everything; some of them are instrumentals, too. But I don't have a decent quality mike so I can't even record them into my PC, which sad as it sounds, is no good for a workstation. Sigh. I've also started working on a short story which, 2 out of 5 people will die after reading and the other 3 will die while reading. But fuck it, I'm still going to write it. Because I'm a boss. *insert cool-shades smiley*

Anyway, I basically wrote this post to announce (who's listening?) that I'll be posting a whole lot of rants under the title Rant-a-thon. Or maybe Rantathon, I don't really like all those dashes. Those rants will actually not be much of rants, they'll be an organised, sane collection of thoughts but on various topics at the same time and hence they eventually will live up to what I'm going to call them anyway, 'Rants!'. They'll cover a whole range of topics from dating, girls, women (wait, they're all the same), memes, politicians (lololol, i'mma be trollin) getting friendzoned (a friend reminded me recently that I'd gotten friendzoned too), 5 hour long classes, bad physics teachers, great chemistry teachers, sad guitarists, happy guitarists, my favorite guitar technique - vibrato, my favorite guitar(s), spectacles, teenagers who're in love, were in love, will be in love or just like masturbating, puns, cold coffee, space issues, misunderstandings, pinched harmonics, letting go, saying no, saying yes, procrastination, contemplation, being in a band and whatnot. And the best thing is - it's going to be random! You'll never know what you're going to get with what. So, yeah. Makes sense? It will, chill.[And oh, it's going to be numbered too, just in case I lose count]

And. I've learnt a lot of songs on the guitar lately, on of my favorites among which is Stevie Ray Vaughn's Pride And Joy. It's awesome, the bluesy rhythm playing and everything, plus the solos are a bonus, and oddly enough, for a  blues song, it's got great lyrics. I also heard this song by Herbie Hancock that featured John Mayer on the radio recently, it's called Stitched Up, and it's from the album called Possibilities. I loved it, it's got this whole awesome jazz groove and everything, and Herbie's piano playing is awesome as usual, as are John Mayer's vocals and Steve Jordan's drumming. I need to know who the bassist is, dammit. 

What's up with the weather in Delhi, man? Sunny now, raining the next moment and then freaking sunny again! It's almost like it's having moodswings or something. But still, it's kind of fun. And considering I have another class starting in about half an hour, I really think I should revise what I learnt in the last class or something. But yeah, Chemistry's gotten a lot more interesting, I have to say (more on that later, as well - check in the rants). Have a fun weekend, people. I ditched school so I could sleep. *insert happy smiley*

So, uh. Yeah.

\m/ (-_-) \m/

Your Best Listener

| Posted in , | Posted on 6:18 PM

2

Your happiness, your sorrow,
 your today, your tomorrow;
keep your worries on the side-table
and tell me all.

What you won, what you lost,
what had hurt, what it'd cost;
I'm here to listen,
at your every beck and call.

I will be your best listener;
today, tomorrow, forever. 
Just remember, before you leave,
to leave the cheque on my desk.



X-x-X