Reflections of a restless eccentric

I was reading my 3rd book of the day when I looked at the stack of books-to-be-read on my table.There was just one book left.Damn! I don't want to finish it all today.What would I do the next 3 days then! I decide to take a break. I send a Hi to about ten people estimating that maybe 3 would reply immediately.As luck would have it,almost all of them replied and I was caught in the torrential maze of messages.Which means,one of these conversations is going to end up hilariously.Always does,you know:P Ranji happened to be one of the people I was texting.We were talking about something when she says:"You should take some of the stuff you get to your hostel room" referring to the myriad quote unquote complementary items my Mom gets from medical reps. "I don't.I just have a photo of my parents and a pug".I reply. I continue: "Maybe I don't want to take things there because the more I personalize my room,the more permanent it all becomes.

First year of college.Sush and I were in this Kannada class,which noone listens to because it was a non-credit subject.Whatsapp was a novelty during those days.Sitting in front of us were a couple of guys,one of whom suddenly started asking everyone for their phone numbers.He probably wanted to create a class group or something,I have no idea. At that point,I was a complete introvert.All social media felt claustrophobic to me.And being added to a Whatsapp group was tantamount to being shut inside a dark coffin.At least,that's how I felt.(Now,sadly,I'm a part of so many Whatsapp groups that I find the idea laughable.) Sush felt something along the same lines,I gather. When this guy turned back and asked me for my number,I thought for a moment.I had two numbers:One which wasn't on Whatsapp and one which was.I'd give out the first number to anyone who asked,whereas this other number was my treasure--about twenty people in the whole world had it.Easy choice.I gave

I sit here with my LAN cable on the throes of death.Twist it slightly and the connection is gone.I need to sit as still as a statue once the cable is plugged in.I'm scared to even breathe,lest it suffer a cardiac arrest.I just wrote an entire article and hit publish to find it all vanish into thin air.Thanks to the aforementioned culprit.Much as I'd like to rant about that alone for an entire article,I don't imagine there's anyone who'd want to read that:P So,let me try and rewrite what I earlier wrote-which is surprisingly hard. Final year of college.Adversity seemed to follow our project like a shadow.First,our guide decided to fly to a galaxy far away and abandon us mid project because well,she didn't give a damn about the project.Not that it mattered much.But the thing is you need a quote unquote guide on paper.So,the department scoured for one to come up with the most dreaded of all.Let's call him Mr.Y.See,the thing is,no group had chosen Y for a pro

I'm incredibly bored.I've read all that I can read and watched as much as my eyes can take.Of course,there's a lot of productive stuff I could do,but for some reason my brain refuses to get into that domain.So,I figure I'm going to be posting random stuff here for the next few days:D I suck at history,but in my own life,the dates somehow register in my head.I remember the dates of the most innocuous of events.In accordance with that,25th of December marks 16 years since we moved in to this house.I was a naive,silly 7-year old when we moved in.Look at me now.I'm 23 and at times I think I'm just as silly and naive now.Sigh! Let's start from the beginning.My Dad happens to be a man who wears many hats.So,the entire floor plan and elevation were drawn out by him.(with the occasional suggestion from an architect, I believe).I was about 5 years,but even then,I sensed that this was some sort of important event and I had to be a part of it.I would by no means l

I was heading home this afternoon.On my way was a school and it being a Saturday afternoon,students filed out with all the enthusiasm and chaos that's typical of them.Somehow,this scene was very reminiscent of my own school life and at that moment,I knew this was something I had to write about:) This one's about how Saturday afternoons were for a younger version of me(about 4 years or so would be right). So here's how things were:Monday through Friday school used to end at 3.30p.m and my Mom would pick me up.I stayed about 11 km from school(which I used to consider far but no longer do).No problems there.Saturday was a whole other story.Like every other school,mine too had a half-day system.Class would end at 12 and everyone would run home to enjoy the weekend.Well,everyone but me. My mom had a bustling practice which would invariably end late--usually 2,sometimes 1.But never 12.Which meant that I had to wait anywhere from 2 to 3 hours for her to come and pick me up.

There was a time when I saw everything as black or white.Right or wrong.No ambiguity.Simple times.I distinctly remember the first time in life when I couldn't distinguish between right and wrong.I puzzled over it for a long time,without finding the answer.I hated not knowing.It made my clear-cut binary life so complicated.Much much later,the epiphany came: There is no right or wrong.It depends on where you're looking from. When I first understood that,I was shocked. There must be something wrong! If there is no right or wrong,how do I decide! All the careful decision trees my brain used were rendered invalid with this single realisation.My naive mind was in turmoil. Choices are sometimes the most difficult of things.Let's see,I'll take something from my experience: I have many ambitions.Things I want to do.Places I want to be in.But all of this requires me to stay away from my parents--the two people who have always loved me.At times,I think,it's a sacrifice

Every year I make it a point to be thankful for everything I have on my birthday.I consider my birthday to be my very own Thanksgiving.I usually do this in my diary,but why not a blog this time!Either way,no one's going to read it:P Our minds are hardwired to compare everything with the past.We go through one day and mentally think of it in terms of the previous day.If it seems better,then we call it good.Else,we crib about what a miserable day it was.IT's when this chain of monotony is broken that we realise how relative everything is.Go through an extremely tough time and you'll end up being grateful for the smallest of things.Things that you didn't even notice before. I compare where I am today to where I was a year ago.And I see such change.I see good and bad times.The good times make for great memories and the bad times for great lessons. I'm thankful for the wonderful people I have as parents.People who let me be who I am.People who give me e

End of exams.The completion of one-quarter of my stay.Finally,the day I've been waiting for is here.The thought of this was the only thing that kept me going during all those tough times--I ponder as I lie on my bed,waiting for Morpheus to call.Surprisingly,I'm wide awake and unable to sleep.Thoughts scatter like reflections off a perfectly polished gemstone.And then,finally,sleep overpowers me. I wake up with this feeling that I can't really describe.Everything feels like a dream.I can't believe I've spent six months here.I can't believe my exams are done.I can't believe I'm going home tomorrow.Somehow,that excitement of the wait has morphed into silence and an inexplicable gloom.Actually,not even gloom.A vacuum.I feel numb.And vulnerable. It's as if reality has finally caught up to me.I feel like the aftermath of a train-wreck.I struggle to find some shred of sanity that my overwhelmed mind can clutch on to.I try talking to people,but to no

It's another one of those depressing evenings when I find my thoughts wandering homeward.Tears threaten to spill over.(Yeah,I've hardly cried for 21 years and now my lacrymal glands seem to be functioning overtime:P)I long to be home.Everything else seems pointless.Even in the midst of all this,the rational part of my brain won't give up. I ponder over this.Why do I miss home?Simple.Because I love it.What can I do to overcome that?Find something I love even more here. Exactly.That's precisely why I left home and came here.Coz I thought I'd discover my passion.That I'd find something I love so much that the rest of the world wouldn't matter. And that is true.Once you find what you're looking for;there's nothing else.It's all you see.All you think about.All you dream about.It becomes your life.Sadly,for me,I still haven't found that.Worse still,I don't even know what I'm looking for.It's not that I hate what I do,it's just