Growing up!!

Previously on "poet on a motorbike" for the post named "growing up??" i wondered how giving up meant gowing up. yeah it was for the best but it was definetely giving up. that was the part that didnt fit in so i put a question mark.

Growing up doesnt mean breaking hearts. Growing up means nurturing hearts. But there are so many. So many intertwined with ours right from the moment we come into this world. And we certainly cannot accomodate all. So we do our best. We put someahead of the other. We redefine and improvise, change and control ourself so that the order remains.

Growing up means taking sorrow with hapiness. My eyes well up but i know no tears will come. A deep sadness covers me like a blanket comforting me. My heart is heavy but i can smile. An almost melancholy. Growing up means nurturing hearts while breaking your own.

The Poet on a Motobike Part 1

Everything comes to age. I think it is time my blog did the same. What is "poet on a motorbike"? It goes like this. Im sure everybody understands what a poet is but the implied meaning is also a sensitive guy who is mostly introverted, keeps to himself, gets stuck on girls for years and writes his feelings down in a book. A motorbike on the other hand signifies masculinity, the thrill of speed and adventure ( though i have observed that most readers/writers do love adventures).

I myself am a amtuer poet of sorts. I have met a few other amatuer writers too. Some prose, some poetic. Whenever i read prose from these friends, they were mostly concerned about day to day activities. They were fun to read but not romantic. And whenever i read poems, they were romantic but far from reality( find myself, love forever and unexplained sorrow come to mind).

So this blog is about the marraige of the romantic with the realistic. I will try to examine how and where the romantic and the realistic merge over the next few posts. And present real facts which are actually romantic. This way, the romantic doesn't have to shut himself up saying that the world is harsh and the realistic doesn't have to put off the romantic as impractical.

In closing, one final line comes to mind. "All is one and one is all". Where there is duality there is conflict. Where there is conflict, there is restlessness and sorrow. Joy-Sorrow, Good-Bad, Up-Down. How many of them can say that they have been only happy in their life? How many people are just only good or only bad? How many of them have been been successful only in everything? All these are not two things. They are just one. This is the dominant theme that will figure in my writings. After all we are trying to merge romantic with reality.

Growing up??

I'd say how sorry iam
but would it change anything.
I'd say how much i miss you
but would that bring us closer.

I'd say you are one in a million
but would it make you feel better.
I'd say how much i love you
but do you not already know.


Growing up means having to break hearts, including your own.

Either way, life sucks

Im at an important cross roads in my life now. On one side I have APPSC, which if i get through, i'll get to be a corrupt government official who has loads of time for his family and his recreations whatever the hell they are. And on the other side I have CAT. If i get through to this, i'll get to be a uber busy manager of sorts who has no private life at all, whose wife thinks he ignores her but i get to be honest and tax paying.

Looking at these two options, I'm baffled. Why can't I have two at the same time? You can say, if you want to you can, but im talking about normal people. And im a very normal guy. So torn between these two roads, I know which one i'll take. But it scares me a lot. What if I'm wrong? What if I reach the end and regret the decision made? What if the other way is the right way? I read somewhere that the price of freedom is high, as high as that of slavery itself.

But silly quotations and mind battering 'advises' dont matter. What matters is that for now, i dont know no other way. This is the way i have always choosen. I may regret it in the end. I may lie down in the end defeated and wondering why I always choose the hard way out. But that is no reason to give up now. Now i have blood flowing in my body and good sense in my head. And I will stand as long as I can. God help me.

F**king phony

When you are young and reading catcher in the rye for the first time, you get only parts of what Holden Caulfield is going through. You smile at some things that he says because you can relate to it instantly but some you do not understand and dismiss as too much cynicism. That is until you sit in one of the farewell mettings.

Ahh....a farewell meeting. So many people laughso and yet cannot finish it. I remember the good old farewell meetings that we used to have 2 years ago. People genuinely missed people. Little was said because there was no need to. Everything that was to be said was already said in that 6months-1year that we spent together.

Back to the future and stuck in this meeting and all I can think of is what Holden Caulfield would describe as 'f**cking phony'. I try to take in a few words and understand its meaning but there is none. Because they are not meant. They are just gap fillers. They are drawn out, make little sense, have no humour and yet people laugh at it. And suddenly my mind conjuers an image of taking a chainsaw to the meeting. Ahhh...instant gratification!!! And suddentl Holden makes a lot more sense than he ever did!! So for the next 15 minutes I spend imagining how to carve up the bastards in the most grizzly way possible. And before you know, the ordeal is over. Phew!

F**king phony bastards.

Gone with the wind.....

My life has been sucking like a vampire lately. I tried to find various reasons for it. Job. Missed out MBA colleges. My un-returned guitar. Reasons ranging from bad movies that won oscars to my wounded leg to a world that sucks. But now that i see it, isnt it plainly simple. She is gone. Forever. She told me once. That somethings are never meant to be. I was adamant. I didnt listen to her. I tried. And failed. So this is how it feels. To give up on someone you love. I've had "girl friends" before. But she was the first that I truly cared and loved.

I wish i could tell her how much stuck Iam with her. How I always think about what she would say to this and to that and smile to myself. How I crave for her in the nights. To hold her and whisper to her that everything is alright now. That I would be all that she would need and more. How I would be my very best so that she can get the best. How I wish to hear her laughter, always with a pinch of sarcasm.

I know she needs me. And I need her more than she realizes. Yet all i can do is sit here and type this. And hope that one day when I look back on this, I wont regret that I couldn't find the strength. Somethings are never meant to be. And maybe that is why they are bitter sweet. Unfulfilled Love.

Looking for something??

One kind word is all it takes,
to cross a thousand miles,
the distance between two people's eyes,
all the unspoken years,
the late unslept nights,
the akward silence,
the familiarity of a warm body,
the unshed tears and the unheard laughter.