The beginning of the end

I've set out on a journey. One that involves parts of India and also parts of my own mind. Sometimes, only a journey into the world can lead you to discover the world within your own head. And so I journey through this beautiful land while I trudge through the deepest regions of my mind.

And if a journey is to be really fruitful, you must carry only what you need. That means shedding excess baggage and unwanted things. Both without and within.

And so I quit my job. Have disposed of a lot of my belongings, called off a relationship, and set out. The only baggage I now carry lies on my back.

What I intend to achieve, I don't know. But something deep within me needed this purge. This trial by fire. This rite of passage.

And the thing is that other, more mysterious forces seem to be aligning to support my cause. The weather for one. This is when it starts getting really hot in Kerala. But still I reached Cochin to see storm clouds on the horizon. That night the weather outside reflected the tumult within. I have changed in just 4 days. I seem to have forgotten how to write.

Earlier it was easy. Just string some nive sounding words together and add a dsh of alliteration and you're almost there. Now when I turn back to the old posts I have put up, it just seems to be show offy. As if I was using passably good language, but saying nothing. It was pure advertising writing. Non commital and nonsensical.

I want now to write with meaning. With points of views that have been stewing inside me for a while. Processed, distilled, brought down to its lowest common denominator. Not just some passing thought that I considered writing about.

I need to find my philosophy. My zen. So that my writing can show maturity rather than meter. So that it can become less comercial and more personal.

I've moved on from Cochin and am in Kovalam at the moment. The weather seems to have followed me. I don't know if that's a good thing or bad. The waves now go up to about 6 feet. I got washed out and humbled thrice today. The mighty George with his board reduced to a spluttering idiot by a wall of water. I've gone under, got spun, battered and finally thrown onto the sandbank. And all I have to show for it is a big smile and a handful of bruises. But I'm loving it.

Dilli meri Jaan

I MISS DELHI.

I miss it terribly and absolutely. I miss it so much, it hurts. I miss the streets, the people, the food, the weather. (That last one's not really true)

I miss my house in New Friends Colony, where I lived with my flatmate and my servant and my dog. I miss my beer at Ego and the 'Neapolitan'. I miss taking my dog for a run in the park. I miss the Old Monk sessions with my friends. I miss 'War of the DJs'. (Me and my mates would sit down over a couple of bottles of Rum and take turns playing music on the stereo. Each one got four songs. The trick was to finish your turn with either a very slow song or a very fast one, so that the other would have hell in the transition. For example, if you finish with a 'Sex Pistols' number, like "Frigging in the riggin" or 'Anarchy', the next person is right fucked.)

I miss stumbling down to Karims in Nizamuddin at 12 in the night and finding it closed, hurling abuses at the doorman. We would invariably settle with "Naseer Iqbal", the cheaper Mughlai joint. I miss Sheermals and Rogan Josh, washed down with a special Sulaimani Chai.

I miss waking up to "Freebird" blasting from my flatmate's room, early on a Saturday morning, while my dog attempts to lick the hide off my face. I miss the saturday morning shopping sprees at INA market. We'd buy everthing in mammoth proportions, as if we were catering to an army on the move. 6 kilos of chicken, 4 kilos of red snapper, 8 kilos of beef - 4 minced, 4 in cubes, 4 kilos of mutton. Shrimps, lobster almost anything in sight.

Early morning runs in Lodhi Garden. I miss the gaudy yet beautiful punjabi babies. I miss the pushy punjabis. I miss the malicious mallus. I miss the harami haryanavis.

But most of all, I miss the hills. I mean the real hills not the sad excuses we have to make do with in Bangalore. I mean the sort with pine trees and Deodars. The rivers and streams bristling with trout and Mahaseer.

Siiiiiiiiiiigggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!

Why

How many times do I have to try to tell you
That I'm sorry for the things I've done
But when I start to try to tell you
That's when you have to tell me
Hey... this kind of trouble's only just begun
I tell myself too many times
Why don't you ever learn to keep your big mouth shut
That's why it hurts so bad to hear the words
That keep on falling from your mouth
Falling from your mouth
Falling from your mouth
Tell me...
Why
Why

I may be mad
I may be blind
I may be viciously unkind
But I can still read what you're thinking
And I've heard is said too many times
That you'd be better off
Besides...
Why can't you see this boat is sinking
(this boat is sinking this boat is sinking)
Let's go down to the water's edge
And we can cast away those doubts
Some things are better left unsaid
But they still turn me inside out
Turning inside out turning inside out
Tell me...
Why
Tell me...
Why

This is the book I never read
These are the words I never said
This is the path I'll never tread
These are the dreams I'll dream instead
This is the joy that's seldom spread
These are the tears...
The tears we shed
This is the fear
This is the dread
These are the contents of my head
And these are the years that we have spent
And this is what they represent
And this is how I feel
Do you know how I feel ?
'cause i don't think you know how I feel
I don't think you know what I feel
I don't think you know what I feel
You don't know what I feel

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy"

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

All work and
no play makes
Jack a dull
boy.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

(P.S. Can't figure it out? Watch Stephen King's "The Shining". Just watched it last night and it psyched me out. Not in a bad way though cos I Looooooovvvvveeeee Horror and Mystery movies.)