Reflections of a restless eccentric

Something I heard recently: Mature stuff.Is this really a 24 year old writing? I guess there's been a lot of abstract,serious stuff on this blog lately.For a change,it would be fun to write about something on the lighter side.I've been rummaging in my head for something suitable!  Texting people who read is like this.Every fourth message will be a link to something they read and found wonderful.Not only that,but they're genuinely excited to share this with you and will keep following up on whether you read what they sent you.It's also quite possible that they take it personally when you don't read it.(By the way,keep in mind that I'm someone who reads so this applies to me as well:P) This is quite fun when both the texter and textee(I just came up with these--they don't exist:P) are on the same page--both have the time,both like the genre etcetera.The problem is when they're not. This happened somewhere in the last week of November.Life was ...

Until quite recently, I belonged to that set of people who mercilessly vilified denial. A fool's paradise ,I thought.As I'm sure was drilled into my head by some school teacher or a fable of someone who lived in an imaginary world, I disdained the very thought of it.It was high on my list of vices,and I swore that I would never give in to it.I could handle reality,no matter how sordid.I didn't need a false utopian image. But a part of growing up is broadening your notions.To be able to look beyond what you think is right.To be able to listen to another point of view,analyse it and modify your own if you think it is justified.If you set your ideas in stone and refuse to change them no matter what,then there's no point to all of life.To all that you experience.The constant feedback loop is what makes us better--it helps us evolve. You might think denial is largely frowned upon by society.While that is true,it is also unconsciously ingrained into us in other forms...

A drabble, to compromise between a random idea eating away at me and my laziness is at its peak. How many convictions have you had, only to find that today they aren't in the picture at all? How many of those ideals have you held on to like binding chains of iron? Till time and society slowly eroded them away and one day you simply cast them away as you would an ill-fitting garment. Now you see someone, "young blood" as is the jargon, passionately standing up for what you once believed in. You sit there watching, not knowing whether to smile at their naivety, applaud their belief or simply tell them that disillusionment is merely a few years away. Do you feel the numbness that comes with too many abandoned convictions? Do you wonder if your ideals were skewed or if it was the world that was skewed because it would not allow them to exist? Was your hold on them not strong enough? Or was it not worth holding onto in the first place? Is adapting to your environmen...

Note:Either treat this as personal and refrain from reading or read imagining it to be fiction. Does it mean that this could be cancer? He asks her,in a voice that is rich with undertones of worry. No,it just has to be ruled out. She answers,in the comfortingly evasive manner that physicians choose to answer any question to which the answer is uncertain. He isn't convinced.Ruling out sounds suspiciously like could be.He asks her: What if it is?What are the consequences? I push my already plugged in earphones harder into my ears in a desperate attempt to drown out this conversation. I've seen and heard too much. I don't want to know anymore. Ignorance is really bliss. This hospital feels too familiar for my comfort.I can even remember the ironically optimistic quotes on the staircase landing of every floor. A hundred unwelcome memories that have now been soothed away by the blurry hands of time resurface to the top of my mind.  There are possibilit...

I call her my twin. She already has an actual twin, so she probably doesn't see me this way. But to me, she'll always be my reflection staring right back at me. One and a half years back, more or less, I met this girl with a wacky sense of humor and the typical cool dude kind of attitude(:P).I thought I had nothing in common with her till one day we somehow got to discussing our blood groups. Turned out we had the same. Could happen, not very improbable. Then came the birthdays. Same day. Same month. Same year. Our ID cards look exactly the same on one side. :D Going by the birthday paradox,still probable. Then, it turned out that she reads. And when I say read, I don't refer to reading one lame novel(that all the world happens to be reading at that point in time) in a year. I mean a voracious,passionate bookworm who gobbles up books faster than the average human being his daily meal. She was that. This was probably when I first felt a real connection with her. ...

As is my custom, I write something which is indicative of my gratitude every year on my birthday. However, since this blog already has a post from last year for the same purpose, I can't possibly write another without it being along the same lines. Therefore, here's an attempt to make this slightly different. Basically, a diff of the me from this year and the me from last year. A changelog of sorts. I am thankful for all that I have experienced in the past year,be it good, bad or agonizing. Each experience has been enlightening--it has taught me something that I previously did not know. I now know the value of people. People who lend a hand when everything seems shrouded in despair. People who you trust, only to find that it was your biggest blunder. People who are divinity incarnate. People who make you think there's no hope left for humanity. I have learnt to depend on people. I have also learnt not to depend on them. Paradoxical, but true. I have learnt that...

Now this is not the end. It is not even the be ginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.-- Winston Churchill I sit here today in a desolate room.It is bereft of all but a few possessions I have decided to leave for visits. Honestly,the room doesn't look markedly different--the void is more in my head. I was supposed to have left last night. I don't know if there were genuinely reasons enough for me to stay another day or if I turned a few trifles into things that had to be done and stayed back. Sometimes,I think it's the former. At others,I'm inclined to go with the latter. Either way,I don't regret it. I'm done with everything I had to do.My work is done.My goodbyes are done.My lists are all checked.I sit here writing,because the silence is too unnerving.The vacuum in my mind is too stifling. Is it all really over?  I've asked myself this a million times. I distinctly remember the rainy morning when I came in carrying...