Blue Seas

The thing about friends is they are the most malleable creatures I know. They come in many shapes, sizes and colours and they fit into any role you need them to. They fill the holes of affection we expect our parents will fulfil.  They sit next to you in movie theatres when your significant other is miles away.  They will never let you be alone on Valentine's Day.  They fight with you like the sibling you never had or the one you lost.  They are your friend, father and confidante.  They are your shrink, and they don't draw the line there. They come to you with problems of their own and suddenly you're a parent to an agonising adolescent.  The pet you, stroke your hair, eat your food, sleep on your bed, listen to your music.  They fit into your life seamlessly and the best part about that is that you are the one that put them there.  They let you give them hell and they give it right back to you. They love you till their cup ru...

You can wait and wait and wait some more. She won't come. Its too early in the morning. She never comes early in the morning. You think your life is hard. Oh, please. What exactly are you waiting for? A moment, that will define you? Give a shred of credibility to your existence? Remember, when people fall in love, its not always bright and sunny. They can be dark and desolate. But they choose to be dark and desolate together. You keep yawning, and looking at the door. I'm telling you, she won't come yet. Sometimes, the best way to deal with something is to deal with it later. I remember what it was like, to be you. I remember the waiting. It was not fun. I know, you keep hoping that something dramatic will happen and then she'll turn up. God, you are foolish. Let me know how it went.

John Dykes: Welcome and good evening! The FIFA World Cup South Africa 2010 is coming to and end tonight. Spain and Holland will battle for the cup tonight, after the spectacular Closing Cermony at Johannesburg. I'm here with our experts Shebby, hello. And Steve. Good evening Steve! And of course our special guest, err, Paul! *points to orange octopus in tank* So, Shebby, what do you think of tonight's Dutch formation? Shebby: Um, a 4-3-1-2 is always a dicey formation. Even though I must say they have seen success with it before. Steve: Yes, I mean it did go against Loew and his boys the other night. But the match against Uruguay, what a splendid performance! John Dykes: And Paul? What do you have to add to this? Paul: glub glub John Dykes: Very well then! That said, we'll take a short break and then we'll join you for the first half of the FIFA World Cup 2010 finals with John Helm, the commentator. Don't forget to tune in to the scintillating First H...

The other day, I was going somewhere. I was walking. Or I may have been in the car. Or a cab. Yes, maybe it was a cab. There was a stop in front of the post-office. So my cabbie waited for the lights to turn. And I noticed a man sitting on the pavement in front of the post-office, perched on a lamp-post. He was selling guavas. The nice, paka yellow ones, the ones I like. Not the green ones which are hard to bite.  Except, that he wasn't doing much guava-selling at that particular moment. He had with him a long blunt knife, which he probably uses it to slice guavas for his road-side customers.  He didn't have any customers right then. It was in the middle of a very hot and sultry afternoon. There weren't many people out on the streets then. Not even in front of the post-office, which is usually very crowded. He was using his knife, to scratch . The back of his knee. It was not a pretty sight. To watch the grimy, sweaty guava-seller scratching the back of his knee, with ...

Dear laptop, I love you very much. In fact, I don't think I can go a single day without you. Hence, pay heed to what I am about to say. I've given it a lot of thought, and after much deliberation, I am going to say this. So please don't take me lightly. I love you. But if you dare to refuse to start one more time and instead sit and blink at me, I am going to beat the crap out of you. Yours sincerely, Prianthi

Dear friends, I hope you all die slow and painful deaths. Love. Yours truly, Prianthi

What do you do? When your friends are either stalkers or nymphomaniacs. And your dog imitates your sleeping posture. And you're jealous of the fact that your brother gets warning notes from the teacher when you never did. And you have too many things to do, but all you can do is fiddle around on your blog. When your dad is convinced that if you write something on your blog, it's going to be 'stolen'. And your mum is addicted to Grey's. And you're dreading and waiting for college to start. What do you do? I wish that the only thing I had to do was write. No eating, no studying, nothing else required. Just writing. Oh yes, and sleeping. I'm partial to that.

And after a time, we realise, that we have nothing to say to each other. We keep looking at each other and wondering, what's going to come next. Sometimes, its all right to not talk. And let silence do the talking. A lot more is said that way.

Once upon a time. There was a little person. And that little person thought that it could change the world. Clearly the little person was a fool. It was practically impossible for the little person to change itself, and become, say, a bigger person. How did it expect to change the world? The little person had no idea. And it refused to give up because, I don't really know this part. Maybe the little person had issues. At any rate, the little person eventually stopped trying. And then the little person realised. That it had taken the first step. To change the world.

As you keep moving on in life, you leave behind these little pieces of yourself, until you are no longer the original shape and piece you had intended yourself to be. The smile you thought you would see everyday. The nail polish you thought you could borrow every time you needed. The one person you would have to fight with all the time, but the second he's not in front of you, your heart stops beating. Your brothers and your sisters who have been with you your whole life are suddenly separated by a distance you no longer know how to breach. And you leave behind a piece with them. Your family as you knew it is now a thing of the past. You leave behind a piece with them. Your room, your study table, your school friends, the ones you saw everyday for twelve years and so you took them for granted. A piece of you, you leave behind with them. In university, semi-annual friends who come and go, rarely touching your lives, and occasionally, taking away a piece of you. New people, new plac...

Its the little things. The way you throw your head back and laugh. The way you look over the rim of your coffee cup. The way you argue about political theories you don't understand. The way you do a little dance when you think no one is watching. The fact that you like dark chocolate. And the fact that you like the wind in your face. And hot air balloons. And tic-tac. The way you frown while reading a book. The fact that you keep wearing that hideous, black leather jacket even though all your friends hate it. And that every time you sing, you close your eyes. Its the little things about you, that I love.

In economics you are taught the concept of opportunity cost. When you pick something, you choose not to pick its alternative. When you pick lilac to paint your bedroom walls, you choose not to pick mellow yellow. When you choose to send your wife (or your mistress, depending on your integrity) carnations, you choose not to send her orchids. When you pick psychology as your major, you choose not to pick history. When you decide to go to Hawaii next summer, you choose not to go to Vermont, and so on and so forth, you get the picture. In the case of a person like me, whose primary interest in life is to be not satisfied with what she has, the system of opportunity cost seems to mock me on the face. I pick and choose among alternatives like every other regular average joe (or jenny, not to sound sexist) and then play mental World Wars thinking how much better off I would be if had picked the 'other one'. To me, the grass isn't just greener on the other side, its probably made ...

I am a rock. I am an island. I'm fed up of living for others. At the end of the day, others don't live for you. I came here alone and I suppose I'll be going back alone too. Then what's the point living for others in the middle? I might have made some friends and lots of enemies, but ultimately the only person I can turn back to is myself. And friends? What good will friends do? They are far worse than enemies anyway. Friendship causes pain. Why should I knowingly hurt myself? I'm better off as a rock, as a stoic. Call me unfeeling if you will. But I'm happy the way I am. I'm at peace. I have my poetry to protect me. I don't have to worry about what others think and feel. For once I can do what I want to do. For I'm a real nowhere man. Sitting in my nowhere land. Making all my nowhere plans for nobody. I'm a nowhere man. I'm a nobody. I'm here for nothing. When I'll leave, I'll have nothing. When I'll leave on a jetplane. Don...

I felt it. Before even saw it or heard it or even smelt it. You know you can smell rain? It smells of leaves and earth and chai and dust and ...........................lots of other things. But I felt it first. It struck my heart even before it hit the ground. It filled me with a strange feeling. Not of joy, not of sadness, not of love, not even of malice. Just a strange feeling. Can't describe - don't want to. It is one of those times when you feel that you've just discovered the eternal truth, only to realise seconds later that it's all a terrible lie. It hurts even more then. The rain made me feel sorry. Sorry - to everybody I've wronged. Sorry God. I wrong you the most and you mind the least. Funny - dosen't work down here. Rain. God is crying. And I don't know how to stop Him.

Black. What a pretty colour.So frivolous, so sombre.So dignified, so innocent, so dangerous. I love it. The little markings on black - letters,words,sentences,thoughts and dreams. You know our English teacher says that there are two types of dreams and dreamers - the Romantics and the Visionaries. Which one am I? I wonder.Which one are you? You wonder. Black - so noble, so kind,so fierce. Black...................................