It is painless. But then I think about a lot of people. A lot? No, may be only a few. Akshat was right when he said “ it is better to die young, full of promise, than to live a life of mediocrity”. Shantanu ‘just another guy’ Srivastava is something which is a fact. It doesn’t change even if he knows everything there is to know. In fact, it amplifies, magnifies, and accentuates the suffering many fold. Why the fuck am I not talented like Sachin V. or Akshat G.? Why the fuck am I the only one who lost because destiny didn’t deal him a better hand? I always said to myself that I am a nice guy. Ha! As if I had a choice! Had I been really, really gifted, I would shut myself up for days like Sachin V. and people would still worship me. Had I been talented like Akshat G. , people would wait for me to say something, anything. Then I try to fool myself by saying that I have absolute honesty but then, as I said, I am just trying to fool myself. How many times have I lost? I have lost more than that. I HAVE LOST COUNT. Is there a warm hand to hold?
I am interesting. I am the most interesting man I have ever known. It draws a lot of people towards me. But never, ever, have I felt lonelier than being in the midst of an enthralled audience. They like me. They sometimes miss me. Some people say that they care about me. It is hard to believe. Or maybe I am being melodramatic. Papa was right, I shouldn’t have read Camus, Sartre, Freud, Dostoevsky, Schopenhauer, etc when I was 11. Now, they all have come back to torment me. Listen you stupid fuck, you thought you cracked the code of life? Well, well, wellllllllll……., lets see you figure it all out. And trust me, I can’t. I love someone. She is unattainable. And eventually, she will fall for someone who is more of a man than I am, because I am always in love with one person. Me.
I am destined to be fucked, over and over and over and over and over again, by this, this, vacuum that I have inside me which can never be filled by all the words in Wikipedia, all the theories broken down and analyzed in a matter of seconds, all the witticisms, one upmanship etc. I am the shithole of self love, the epitome of self loathing; I am shit, in its purest form. I am a wasted, fucking life which has no meaning. Fuck, I really think that, when I die, people will remember me for exactly 8 seconds and pull a serious face and will move on to unwrapping their lunch kits to announce to the world, aaj main poori laya/layi hun.
And its not their fault, I am just an anecdote at a party. I am a t shirt quote. I am just a story to be told to drunk friends. I am just an episode, which has no repeats, because, how many times can you put a show on air which has no viewers? I am the lowest form of life. I am nobody. And I knew it all along. And I knew I couldn’t do anything about it. I knew it. And I go through hell every day.
To borrow Arriaga’s famous line from 21 grams, HELL IS RIGHT HERE.
Please forgive me if I suddenly die. But then, I know, I won’t. I am just plain unlucky.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Saturday, January 3, 2009
neo
Sometimes, some stupid Hollywood movies start to make sense. The Matrix, for example. No, I am not talking about the world being a Matrix and the human beings just batteries. I am talking about The One. Mr. Anderson, or Neo for the uninitiated. Somebody who can dodge bullets, beat an army of a thousand people, can do the unthinkable and still be compassionate and tender enough to look someone in the eye and say, “I’ll take care of you”.
And once in while, you come across a similar kind of person in your life. “Come across” is a weak phrase, completely dependent on chance and is fleeting. Sometimes, a person enters your life and nothing remains the same. He bashes all things old and fills your veins with something other than that warm, boring blood. He is the reason why, suddenly you walk tall, every word you utter is drenched in self confidence, and you can sleep at night.
He is also the reason why some people can’t sleep at night.
A personality so intense that you wish you could hang on to it forever. Your very own, personal Mr.Fixit, who can hold his and your life together just by being The One. He can fly, and if you wish to learn how to fly like him, you just have to hold his hand. Once you have enough confidence to take off on your own, he’ll cut his wings and give them to you, so you can see how the world looks like from his altitude.
At work, people copy his style, they try to walk like him, talk like him, be in charge of every situation, just like him. They try to duplicate his cool, calm exterior and melt it with his flavour of the molten lava of unadulterated skill, pure talent and immense emotions, to create a phenomenon that he is. Little do they understand that he is one in a billion, that a force of nature comes once in every ten generations.
Sounds like a promo, doesn’t it? Probably it is, a promo of the biggest blockbuster ever conceived and created by God. Wait for the tag line.
A man to live with, and a man to die for.
I know him, have worked with him, have cried and laughed with him, have shared personal dreams with him, because he is worth having in your life, forever. And he isn’t, probably nobody is.
And once in while, you come across a similar kind of person in your life. “Come across” is a weak phrase, completely dependent on chance and is fleeting. Sometimes, a person enters your life and nothing remains the same. He bashes all things old and fills your veins with something other than that warm, boring blood. He is the reason why, suddenly you walk tall, every word you utter is drenched in self confidence, and you can sleep at night.
He is also the reason why some people can’t sleep at night.
A personality so intense that you wish you could hang on to it forever. Your very own, personal Mr.Fixit, who can hold his and your life together just by being The One. He can fly, and if you wish to learn how to fly like him, you just have to hold his hand. Once you have enough confidence to take off on your own, he’ll cut his wings and give them to you, so you can see how the world looks like from his altitude.
At work, people copy his style, they try to walk like him, talk like him, be in charge of every situation, just like him. They try to duplicate his cool, calm exterior and melt it with his flavour of the molten lava of unadulterated skill, pure talent and immense emotions, to create a phenomenon that he is. Little do they understand that he is one in a billion, that a force of nature comes once in every ten generations.
Sounds like a promo, doesn’t it? Probably it is, a promo of the biggest blockbuster ever conceived and created by God. Wait for the tag line.
A man to live with, and a man to die for.
I know him, have worked with him, have cried and laughed with him, have shared personal dreams with him, because he is worth having in your life, forever. And he isn’t, probably nobody is.
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