Such a long journey

By Harish Mohan

(For the uninitiated, Thane is a suburb on the outskirts of Mumbai, and about 40 kms from Mahim.)

Happiness is a strange thing. The more you try to chase it, the more elusive it seems. But I guess its real beauty lies in the fact that you can only feel it when it reaches you, not the other way around.

My watch read 11:30 as I managed to just about have a glimpse of the time in the quiet lulling night, sitting on the steps at Mahim Beach. The splendor of the city shone in its stillness for a change, as an unfinished bridge blocked the full moon, shinning down upon the waters which were doing a little dance of their own. I have always looked at Mahim Beach as the common man's beach. Sure, Marine Drive graces like a queen resting in her shade of purple, and Juhu beach is the place where a man feels alone, in the swarming sea of humanity. But the stretch of Mahim Beach upto Worli is the sea of absolute stillness, lending an ear to every man who seeks his daily solace. I can't help but overlook the young married couple, while the husband murmurs in a loud tone, enough for everybody around to hear, about his successes in life and the wife looks on with a forced awe, probably out of her necessary captivity to fate. The man with a ragged look, the grey moustache and the checked shirt is silent, looking endlessly at the moon. The middle aged man has heavy wrinkles, as he prepares for his customary 20 min sojourn, while sitting on the beach, before he catches the last local and boards home to find a house to run. The rag pickers play around with the shells, with the large shiny ones being stuffed in their enormous ragbags, probably the biggest prize they will ever own, one that they would probably sleep the cold night on the roads with and impressions of crowning glory in their dreams.

With these thoughts in my mind, I boarded a taxi to take another expedition of its own sorts, as I prepared to catch the 1 hour train taking me across the city while showcasing a million little journeys in itself.

Getting down at Matunga station is a nightmare of sorts for those who always know where the next road leads. In the midst of total darkness, I shuffle, with skepticisms to guide me initially, only to be replaced by a total elation at finding myself with nowhere to go and just walking in the tunnel. The slow , idyllic walk is stopped with a mind numbing sight. A crippled mother , of about hardly 4'5 in height with disheveled hair, was combing her daughter's hair, just about matching her as she stood. The mother looked with eyes of promise at her beautiful young child and as I passed by in absolute numbness, somewhere I could hear the mother say to her "You are going to be beautiful someday, my child". I suddenly realize that I have to rush and run, whereby I just about manage to catch the last local and to my amusement, I find the compartment empty.

It is boarded, not surprisingly, by people from all walks of life, all bound by the two things that drive the city today, circumstance and necessity. At the entrance of the carpet, is a nearly naked old man, with strands of unkempt white hair laid out bare, as he sleeps like a child never wanting to wake up. Three old men, with their namaaz caps on, look towards the sky from their windows, murmuring their prayer, presumably. Despite enough places to sit, I go across to a group of people who stand to take in the unique Mumbai winds.

The Mumbai Winds. Sharp and cool at the same time, refreshing to some, a necessity to others. I watch a man, wearing the what is now common sight of a neat white sleeved shirt with two buttons open. He is old and haggard, with a bead in his hand and he is mumbling his prayers too. That is what has driven Mumbai despite suffering from 3 bomb blasts and every evil that has been inflicted to it till date, the NEED TO SURVIVE. Irrespective of faith and sensibilities, every man in this city is fighting to survive. Some in the maddening rush of their lives, and some in their own actions. And having lived 2 years in the city now, I have come to peace with such an act.

As the stations arrive one by one, I realize that this compartment is full of cripples and 'differently abled' people as this is the compartment of handicapped. I would have loved to say that I actually did not feel out of place, but the truth is, the only thing that i felt there was the feeling of dwarf ness. I felt like a midget before their spirit to live and to fight. The stations rushed by and gave me the once again familiar sight of apartment after apartment as I entered the suburbs, and the urban chaos around them.

As I finish my 45 min walk, with music in my ears as an accomplice during this journey of rediscovering life, I realize that every man has his own story to tell and his fortune to weave. And this journey that they undertake in their lives is a far greater battle than the one which I had just experienced.

Harish Mohan

Bright Side of the moon

Candidly speaking, birthday parties usually have not been with much jubilation for me. I must secretly confess that I have found attending or celebrating those a bit discomforting. And I must say, I have never walked the extra mile to dissect this eccentricity, until today. I realize that this is primarily because often I have got invited to birthday celebrations of persons I have been least acquainted with. I have noticed many a times, that as a matter of courtesy or may be norms of social networking, people get invited to places where one silently feels completely out of place. And in spite of the awkwardness of standing aloof in the midst of a celebration a with the plate in hand, smiling and greeting unknown but familiar faces, I have attended most of them. I do not know as to why do people have to put with something like this. For the rich I guess its networking, business, politics, wine, dine and women. Money, I guess teaches one to socialize. I guess that’s how it is between the rich and affluent. Though that’s only wild guess as my familiarity with that social circuit is limited. As for the general category of simple, humble, generous and jealous, I guess its sheer out of courteous respect for the invitation itself. As for me I put up with such social gathering purely in hope for great food and to devour the ornate visual delight. And by gods grace, relished both on rare but memorable moments. Secretly I have desired for soothing drinks to be a part of all such functions and sadly come to realization that it is still consider a taboo. Unless the functions of catholic or Sardar. But often I have gotten around with that impediment too. It is shameless is a pre requisite to squeeze joy from certain occasions.

But, then that is about me, sharing the celebration of people I know by face and not necessarily by deeds. Overall such parties just come and go with the residue of images of ladies that were not to be. But then its entirely different when it is with the closed ones. Till date those celebrations amongst a close knit circle have remained modest and occasionally marked by grandeur submerged in river of alcohol and great food. And of course these instilled like caressing touch of feather over memories.

Such was the case with a birthday party this Sunday. It was unplanned, with no balloons, no iced cakes and indeed of course no gifts. But of course a common present from all the invitees for the birthday boy. Invites?lets say just a bunch of guys who knew that they had to bump into each other some where in the noon. From the flexibility of venue and timing, to the expectations narrowed to zilch, marked this day.

For some reason, I knew I had to buy a cheap, but censored gift to kick start my home coming to the party. So bang in the noon I took a taxi ride and traveled over the sea’s to the tambourine woman and played my role. On the other side of the town two guys were lurking the street s of Bandra, looking for the single most luxurious gift that would imbibe the day the neat corners of memories. Obviously it was unintentional and unexpected but it turned out to be something that dipped the moments into flavors.

From the gentle howl of the friends calling us from the dimly lit room, I knew the party had begun. And then I eyed the valued gift for the day which supposedly has its righteous place in the cauldrons of the rich, gently resting on the humble floor. And even as it laid itself on dusty floor, it seemed very much at its graceful best with soothing welcome warmth around it. Perhaps it could also sense the feeling of belonging with the audience.

It was nothing less but the delight of Jack Daniels itself- the brand, the vogue, the statement for the moment. The most wonderful sight was the shine in the lascivious eyes of pride and greed to savor exotic smoothness on the palate. I noticed the rascals had inaugurated the beauty just a short while before our arrival, but of course, that was expected and I’ve learn to overcome jealousy. Nevertheless, soon we all watched the sweet poison drip over the ice cubes. Tumbling and tossing over ice cubes. As as I gasped the sight of rising cold misty fumes from the ice I could empathize its arousal by viscous ness of a première whisky. And as I lay there learning the definition of exquisite class, we all raised toast to Jack Daniels and Ambrishh Singh.

We celebrated the day barely two pegs as each individuals share of luxury. But I am sure we felt content, glad. And gently the chilled drink provided the much need warmth for hearts. Soon few bites of biryani were devoured from single plate with recollection days of brother hood running in back ground. And while savoring each sip of whisky, the conversations drifted from the good, the bad and the ugly in the world, to the sweet dreams behind the private eyes of the birthday boy. Over all it was a light hearted affair. And for a while as we played music, we all got lost in the moment. The soft numbers played, the eyes got closed, sometimes the plectrum played on the strings and sometimes hands rose up and fingers played over scales of piano in empty air.

And while I lay there I had thought about the cherished birthdays from the past and approaching birth days. And about many such celebrations that are lined up in the passing year and in the early season of the new year. Over the coming months many people will take new adventures, and I hoped all such celebrations are a light-hearted affair, some marked in grandeur of luxury and some with serene humility. I wish, all such days would be joyous with food, drinks and the ladies, all in sync with the music. And more of such days shall keep coming and bring in new dawn as to make them a celebration of life itself for the moment. And I sincerely wished they are lined up with Jack Daniels dripping the moments in culmination of desires blended with grace and pride and the perfect harmony of senses and music.

The Open Window

By Harish Mohan alias AsExplainedByJunkie.....

It’s been a long time. Lately, through conscious means, I became a victim of THE ROUTINE. After what seemed like an age of reluctance, I persuaded myself to collect the will required to be happy by waking up, walking the dirty road to the office, and sit numbed in front of a cubicle for 8 hours, hit the gym and sleep. Today was a little different. Thrilled by the desire to be detached and inconsequential, I left office early enough to walk a road that I have not walked for quite a long time now.

The alleyway where I go to collect my stuff from is a topic fit for a painting itself. It sits just next to the main road, which on most of the days, is bustling with the noise of drums, ‘Bhiku-Matre’ dances, and begging urchins. You walk out of that noisy blare to turn right into a pitch dark, extremely narrow alley. It’s difficult to decide on a first glance, what haunts you more, the silence in the air and in the faces around, or the stench emanating from unwashed clothes and burnt fish collected at one corner. I step down to 3 stairs and enter a cramped, one room with two little girls fighting over a beautiful doll. Interrupting their session of joy, I blurt out a meek ‘Dus ka’. The ‘pudiyas’ are taken and having got the gear along, and head for my lush and huge society.

Here’s how this works. I get back to my home, switch off the lights, switch on the laptop and the music system and start to roll. After a while, when I awake from my lull in total darkness, I find myself in love with the short restless walks that I take across the hall while the music guides me through my mind. My mind runs in a series of flashy images, each promising a vision of the great beyond. Then, as the angels of imagination always do, they give me a symbol.

The symbol that I am about to talk here is that of the open window in a dark room. The best view is to look down, across the play ground where the children are cherishing their best moments of the day. This is nothing but a sight of absolute and pure joy, as little tots run around in playful glee, wishing for time to cease still. Over looking the play ground, is the by now familiar sight of lines and lines of skyscrapers and apartments, where each flashing light in a house tells a different story. There is of course, the story of the young girl, about 16, angelic in demeanor, with expressions of forlorn and lost love on her otherwise sweet face. The balcony, a refuge for the soul, in real estate terms, also plays gallery to a different shades of characters. There are the couples, each weaving their own spun versions of ‘A Promised Life’. There is the frantic dance of the young kid with dreams in his eyes and a hope in his heart, while he kicks around the football with his own visions of a prosperous future.

It is a period of total objectivity and one of the best substitutes for the brain numbing, de-sensiting medium of entertainment which is aptly called ‘The Idiot Box’. Here is the connoisseur of art, looking at a picture which he can only dream of. A portrait of the vast canvas of life, enacted in different colors, each conveying its own meaning and depth. Of what arises, and has happened to all those people who have always stood by the open window and made this their haunting ground for life, I cease to comment. But this, I hope serves as a platform for all those people who attain their idea of peace and serenity in the quiet chirps of the bird at dawn/dusk, and share their smiles with those very tots during their precious moments of joy.

So, what do you see out of the OPEN WINDOW?

P.S: Could not have helped but to take these thoughts and post before like many words which get lost in time. I hope the guy manages more of the wonderful insights or rather outside view of what lies in inside or whatever and keeps more of such amusements coming in. Brilliantly Crafted though!. And the pleasure is all mine ! :D

And he had no time to rework

With great pain he opened his eyes, the scorching piercing beams from the sun blinded him with light. “I wish I would have lived in the blur of light and not haze. How cruel !”, he thought. Above the sky was blue with not a cloud in sight which would cover the sun and provide the little needed relief. He saw two vultures hovering over him, squealing and thirsty for his warm blood. He felt the beads of sweat and the sharp pain on the cut of lips. He put his tongue out and tasted his bitter-sweat some what tangy blood. “Couldn’t have been better eh?” He thought and smiled at the sky.

How could it come to this, How?, he wondered. He was lost in his thoughts. Even now, even at this juncture in his life the questions hanged on like a child’s nightmare. He commanded his senses, “for once for a little while, just shut up, shut up. But he could not have helped it. It held there like a mirror with the same old reflection of his youthful reflection”. And eh wondered, desperately, trying to find out answers to the Hows, whens and whys, at least now ?

He was supposed to be a fucking Super Man. How in the hell did he end up with his ass lying on the burning sand. And the moment he thought of it, he smiled at himself. The pain from the lips rushed like a thunder and sharply hit the brain, and he pressed his eyes close, just to forget and absorb the painfulness of every thing in life and smiled again. That’s your idea of courage and heroism. What a hero you are, who would suck it all up and yet manage to bring a smile at your burning thirsty stingy lips. That has been your stupid idea of bravery and salvation, he thought. Bloody masochist. And now like a helpless idiot you got to wait for it to end. Damn it!. How innocent and foolish you’ve been.

He saw a small kid standing underneath gazing up at the different bottles of chocolates, trying to make a choice. And he wondered it was only choice- that’s what he could not make in his life, but how could one have made it on chocolates and all the varied beverages. Just wishing he could have taste every thing that life’s to offer and gobble it swiftly before it was too late. And life since then was an formula one race, squealing, screeching, twisting and curling, but still grasping at every moment and grabbing the adventure. He wished, life could have stood still there in that moment under the shelves of chocolates and he would not have come under the gaze of vultures. Damn!. When did the road take this bloody turn?.

The hot wind blew over sands. He noticed his suffocation. Someone should have been there isn’t it ?. Damn!. The sands choked his breath. A little drop of water on the lips would do the magic, he thought. Just a lil wetness, and the feeling of feminie moist lips would have been awfully wonderful, but that’s a luxury he could never avail and perhaps never would. He moved his tongue over lips but to no avail, even the slightest moisture is dried up he feared. Its close. Very close. The pain had subsided. The bleeding had stopped. He was feeling slight shiver and he was scared that panic would soon take over.

“Isn’t is so bloody funny”, he thought. “It was not his moment”, he felt. He felt like he believed it. Banking all his thoughts that in a while someone would find him out. Someone across the sand dunes was destined to come and save his soul. What wrong he had done, Nothing?, at least the intentions where not malicious and deadly unlike those ideals of the cumulative human masses and there beastly selfish thoughts. Moreover he counted on his destiny which had never failed him to intervene, once again and just one last time, he wished he could gather the courage and pray for it.

Would it not been great if some pretty women find him in despair and shower her care and love and bring him out of his misery once and for all. Would it not be romantic and dramatic, he thought. Would it not be such a wonderful unique miracle he would so grandly share with his friends and loved ones, about all the adventures of little tom sawyer. Who lied dead in the Mangolian desert and then love found it s way to pull him out of his grave, he smilingly thought. And for a moment he even started making up and painting the beautiful pretty face of Liza Ray. And then her face flashed. The first girl in the school he put his eyes on. Such beauty!. Such innocence. Such confusion of mind. And the confusion lingered on. His eyes closed.

He could feel the a dried obstructing lump in throat. The panic was sinking fast inside. Some one has to come soon. Help was need badly.

Not like this! Not like this, the perturbed mind prayed. The brilliance of light compared the scorching heat of the sun. Shining with blinding whiteness till the eyes closed and tried to soothe itself in the darkness. He saw a child sitting swaying his legs, smiling, with brilliant, glittering eyes full of life and energy in front of him and then the regrets came in with a belligerent youth who with bitter insensitiveness walked out on his mother who always was with unbridled love and unfettered faith in him. Did he fail her innocent aspirations too?. How bad this is going to be!. But then he had given up on every thing on every one for it really doesn’t matter in this world. He knew the truth and eventually in every persons time, they shall know it too and had moved on in life. Moving on was the name of the game. He just wished every one would have peace in their lives and accept what life has to offer and let go of their fears and wander through the deep forests, through the river streams, across the desert and suck it all up.

The friends came in front of him. All those wonderful and cheerful people he had been with. How things changed for them too. So many stories were there to tell, few lived and many died. How they grew up like desperate bachelors and found girl friends and then eventually life partners. How sweetness in life came with its own tantalizing taste of life. And he recollected the day when they all sat on a huge table arrogant innocent on binge drinking. Pulling each others legs. Twisting every little incidence of day into a joke and those brooding heart broken lovers brooding on some unconcerned, indifferent shoulders- garnering hoards of sympathy, mutual pain and all the jokes for the next morning. And then the last toast to all those friends as mature gentleman with their devotedly loved life partners. When unconsciously life streamed the notes and tones of a melody and every one had something to relate to himself.

He felt the sharp slap of a wing on his face and nails screeched tearing through the skin and blood streamed into the eyes. It hit like a shot, like a bolt. He gained his sense for a while and thought “How something as silly as fate and destiny decides to snatch away life out from the worldly confines? Leaving nothing behind no faces, no memories, no smiles and no tears.”

His eyes rested over each other. The sun was still as ruthless as life could be and under it he lay there silently thinking to himself and mumbled the last verses he wrote :


How do you travel across the winds?
Will the wings lift or the thoughts will fly
Either way its all thy pride

Shade and light are no more surprise
Is that whats known as wisdom
Or is it just another truth about the lies.

In your love and anguish my heart cried
Oh dear shadow why did you lie
What happened to sown seed
Is that how a laughter dies?

A message from the far away skies
Swirling on winds traced the dying high
Hollow eyes found the smiling wise smile

The angels in the heaven cried
But the ones in the hell they all smile
The winds whispered gently

It’s the past, all that is
Do you now choose to die?



And he had no time to re work on "it"... damn!

Whisk in wee morning hours

Its been a long time. Long time since I had risen up at the early hours of morning. But before we talk about the dawn, there has to be a story about the night and night before that. When it was all pitch black for last two nights, I was doing "what I had to do that time, to get by". By yesterday night sleep was bickering and begging on my eye lids to gently rest on to each other. So finally yesterday night, I had my dinner, went to room, read a book and fell fast asleep in time and slept just enough long. Wonderfully like the good old time- with no taxing thoughts in head and no clog on chest. Awesome. That’s in brief.

So I wake up early this morning. Surprisingly refreshed I look at the my phone and scroll through missed calls. The last one was just half an hour back and I know the story about another story at night in another life. So I call back upon the last number in the queue, to get the morning update. As a rule I’ve been always calling up on people last in the queue. And the discussions jumps on to finding the best plans that each could do in his last hours of his day and early hours of mine. My plans being to experiment with the morning hour with morning walk, come back and scribble my plebian thoughts in cool retreat, while listening to the softest of the softest numbers and try if I could make something about an early affair with dawn. That was because I guess its been quite some time when I have casually taken morn walk or more appropriately stroll. I do not have much ardor for action at this hour. For that matter, I believe people in cities have relinquished the idea of sauntering in life. People these days don’t take brisk stroll. Rather I find most of youth walk with shoes on and marching in some sort of a parade, trying to cut some flab and actually ending up cutting the flab in head which could appreciate nature, solitude and beautiful females. For unknown reasons, I find it funny, but I guess these people feel good about things their way and they have their own choices. Or may be youth is supposed to be marching and not slumber around. That doesn’t mean that I am not youthful, its just that-not today, and I have no clue which day, I will have my liking for action. Also, I have a ready lame excuse- I have been doing quite a lot of traveling, living on a high, a wee bit hectic life filled to the brim with raunchy thoughts, bla bla bla which all drains a lot energy out of oneself. And I guess a morning like today’s for me is not about morning walks and strolls. Its just about appreciating a little welcome change in my routine, coz, in my conscious sense today, I am thinking about keenly observing my day pass by. And I have this idea, that may be every one should randomly choose a day in their life and observe how it goes by. That would be the greatest database of lives better than digging gene pool. And I suppose most of matter on the time scale would not be a pleasant graph.

All said and done, I finally have made my mind, and slowly my days plan work out and I am lost in my day dream. And if I could live it exactly as I want it to be – trust me – its so spicy ( that’s my youth talking ) that I would be the happiest person in this world. I do not know for others, but if I have to take a wild guess, many individual plans don’t work out mostly for a large majority and that’s why we are tired or dejected, unsuccessful and worn out unless we are going to party, meeting the rascal friends, a social outing, a long drive to friends place, meet your girl friends for evening drinks, coffee or best at her place alone. Smoke on the sea side with an old buddy, dinner at V.T, drinks at Sports Bar, and beds are left to your choice rather mutual choices, if you are lucky to find someone with mutual thoughts. I guess that’s all about my fun plans revolve around and if I am not wrong for the world too. That’s usual. The funny thing in my day dreaming is that I cast away the plans the middle part of the day, coz its not all that pleasing to think about it- wouldn’t the masses love to do that? but alas I have found majority pretends how much in deep love they are with their work.

To share a secret with you people, I must say, for flicker of second my mind even thought of venture through the life of Kevin Spacey as in American Beauty. At least to start the day his way,reaching the highest point of life in the day and then taking downward train . But I had no alcohol yesterday night. And seriously speaking, I have no clue if I should have shared this naughty thought in this space, but, after a second thought, I saw the bold letters in front of my eyes and heard sermons on freedom of expression, honesty and truth.

As for one let me confess, I have been awake for last one and half hour and I had sincerely contemplated about my morning “stroll” and come back and share a thought or two bout all the beautiful fields of sun-flowers, ladies picking up on roses, jasmines, how beautiful it is in the fresh air, about how butterflies flew watching all those cherubic angel-faces, about how much oxygen fed my lungs were, how lascivious my thoughts went, about how much I would feel to retain this little transmutation in routine decorum at least for the few coming days till I get tired of the early mornings. Because all said and done I seriously know it is very benign outside with a gentle fervor for life. And the fact is any one can guess that while standing in the balcony brushing teeth’s for complete five minutes, squat while reading the newspaper, take a long-long shower and setting every thing to rock and roll.

Curiously I think my plans are already tumbling, more over, I have an overwhelming reason to move out. I desperately need a smoke. So here I go. I guess certain sun-flowers are rotten. J. But I have no complains, I guess, the start is significant. And I think ramblers should ramble .

What happened was, I spoke to this guy, who suggest to get on to something, did lil tweaking and searching here and there, and finally plugged on the ear phones. It’s the soft sincerely Leonard Cohen number-
In my secret life. So the plans reshuffled.

P.S: It all went hay wire. The stroll lasted till finished my smoke and after that dusting the car, before a lasting mouth-wash, a long shower and a nice little read of Rajdeep Sardesai’s editorial in HT. I have always liked the early team of NDTV. The blatant acceptance of facts.

Sojourn in empty moment

There are such deadly moments. The most amazing thing about these is, that such moments have started to come haunting to me very badly and too often. These are times, when my head is totally numb. May be not exactly numb its just disinterested, blanked out. Something like being devoid of happiness, sorrow, sentiments and ideas. All that sounds like attaining Nirvana, but I am certain its nothing close to it, rather its like knocking on hells door. These are basically dead. At this time I have no clue what I want right now, what I want to convey, what I am thinking or for that matter I have no questions and I have no answers, and somehow I ‘ve this inkling that’s the way musings on life are.

I can’t sleep and I can’t keep myself awake. Or May be I don’t want either of both coz I really consider both of them as waste of time. I am not restless and I am not feeling like to rest. May be that’s what you’d call insomnia And I have this over whelming desire to read, but since I have got a sty thing in my eyes, I won’t find I really comforting to read or may be I have so much in front of me that making a choice is like an uncalled baffling. Rest remaining thing is music. Now, although music is like god which would save my soul in the most distressing moments as of now since I am devoid of every single sense or feeling, I do not want to insult music ( rather that’s too much to , coz at this moment I would not do justice to it- I would not close my eyes and sing it from my heart, my head won’t nod to the beats, I won’t get all those beautiful images, I won’t get the high, basically the beat would be missing in the heart beat. But still given my due respect and hope clinging to the words in the lyrics, I still would play few tracks in the back-ground. I think I wanted to groove to some song, but I think I am not going to do that, no matter what my beliefs I would find it really stupid coz I am in a perfectly sane state of my mind. Though after giving it a second thought I think probably I should pretend to be a mad man and start dancing- all alone with nothing in my head and with no viscous beverage in blood stream to tantalize the veins and no visceral thoughts to soothe my brains. I am not even interested in discussing females. It would really be boring and cliché again. I am not thinking about life neither death is amusing me.

And over and above no non-sense or gibberish talk is probably going to make sense to me and no sensible discussion is going to last my attention for long time. All I am thinking right now is may be I should check into a decent hotel room, get into a neat bathroom, take a hot shower and go find good pub or lounge and sit on the bar-counter alone, biting on peanuts and having a scotch on the rocks and watch some gibberish on T.V with undivided attention. Coz frankly speaking unlike usual times, I would not even prefer or observe the people around me. Coz I think there would not have any thing special to observe. Or even if some thing would be worthwhile observing in a pub would be discarded very silly in this moment. Or may be I would eventually go back to my hotel room end up watching some documentary on Discovery again with no great amazement or curiosity, may be the whole information would be going straight into my head as interesting piece of knowledge which could amuse me sometime later, but at this moment I would just collect the goods and intensely concentrate on listening. Then may be fiddle around with news paper, try to catch a story of interest, and since there would not be many, finish of the stories with catchy titles, some how end up finding them surprisingly interesting and get over with them. Movies would be too long to hold me on, but still might give it a shot for a while. The point is there is very little and very rare that’s left to excite me in such state of mind. It would have to be such a rare idea, talk, movie or song, so special something has to be that even I have no clue as to what it possibly can be.

It’s a feeling sometimes I get while I am on a long drive or a long bus ride or a long train ride. When everything tends to begin as mechanical as it could, and yet there is something my sweet mind keeps seeking something ahead in the destination or in the journey that I am to begin. When eventually I enter a train, bus or plane nodding and smiling and making eye contacts and yet looking for my lucky seat which in all probability would want to be comforting and with a little privacy of my own. When I would most probably try to look around if I could commune with any one and end up disappointed to finally pull out the book, read it for a while, turning each page slowly and steadily at my own sweet pace. Finally resting it on lap and eventually leave myself resting myself on to windows and the eyes watching the out side world- the wilderness, towns, shabby and humble hutments people in dhotis and baggie pants, animals, birds, green hills, vast yellow fields, shining streams, marvelous bridges, railway crossings, landscapes, sunrise and sunset pass by, one after another. May be some mp3 player would come handy, rather very handy at times.

So is that I am dead, I wonder. But I think I am not. I might feel no life. But the amusing thing I have discovered is that, it is in these dead or empty moments that I feel alive.

That’s the best part of traveling, it gives you empty time and you feel nothing but alive.

The good news is I have started feeling this way during nights while alone in my room also.

A comment that became blog!

I was going through your post about self discovery and I do not know ..but I think since that time I was commenting on it … I went on with it.. only ….to find…

Its just a matter of time before one realizes the truth about oneself. And the truth about oneself would dawn upon when one would have given up on almost every thing, given up on desires, dreams, aspirations and hopes, this salvation would turn would come only once one is satiated with his/her desires to the brim of endless human gluttonous senses. That’s my view and since it is very convenient to accept for the whole world, I hope they’ll tread this righteous honest ugly path of human psych.

Thing is eventually you have to give up on every thing, in any case, you’d just be so bored with every single thing that’s materialistic and the fight to achieve your salvation, that you’d indeed give up on every thing.

And the irony is once you've overcome everything over all stupid meaningless sentiments that you'd fall in love with everything, every fleeting second. Coz you'd realize that this is all you have. All these moments which have to be filled with all things that you wanted and beseeched, before letting it all vanish in the oblivion. You would go frantically looking for every moment rich and decorated in purity and bliss of whiteness, of peace.

Now coming to the core issue, I think Johnny has too much life in him. I think Johnny doesn't want to sleep and wants to live every moment of his life. Johnny wants to sit behind a friend who would drive him across the highways, . Johnny wants to live life, for hes running short of it all the time. He wants too much from life, and he demands it from his life, his body and every single mitochondria in his living cells. He would explode his guts and emotions to create a vacuum within and then implode to suck all the beauty around him and every moment within him, which would never escape till the grave, the lasting taste of beauty on the palate forever, he wants to see all the world, travel places, watch people, observe the absurdness of life, write about it , talk talk talk about all the gibberish that’s in the world. Find fun in utter non sense and gracefully show the world the intended "pun" when lord said let there be light ..and mischievously smiled at humanity and humans. So he would go commit the seven deadly sins, each fucking seven times and he shall have his hearty laugh all the while and then when he would know why they those would commit sins are cursed, he shall have his salvation and become god who justs preach the world.

Johnny wants to live every breadth, find joy in the cover darkness when he is at rest. Johnny wants to fall in love, be loved all the while coz he know s what he is and he knows what’s the value of life. Those who would love him, he shall be with them forever. Those who don't love him, he would love them still. But Johnny has his life, and its only his and its the only thing he has got.

And you know Johnnys not a loser, for he has lost every thing and he knows there is nothing worth in the life to be lost, except peace, beauty and life itself. Johnny is not a repulsion to humanity, rather he is a lover of humanity and repulsion to society, and detests the lie which beautifies and signifies civilization. Civilization which is nothing but a mean self interest driven book of norms which denies the originality of humans themselves. Johnny loves and respects all the brilliant minds in this world, all the people who've excelled in their passions, its just Johnny has not found his own. Hes come across it several times, but hates for himself for he never treaded the path. Johnny knows hes wasted a lot of brilliant talent and watched a lot get wasted around him. He feels sad for it. And that s about it, nothing more nothing less. Its only a matter of time, when you Johnny would let go of cocoon around him and go out and reach for the stars. Just be free from himself and fears that haunt all the germinating seeds of been squashed away to emptiness.

And to tell you now honestly its all like this. Sometimes you are so full of restlessness, energy and an overwhelming desire to please yourself and your loved ones that you would race through the traffic, taking sharp cuts and sifting through it will full energy and enthusiasm and overtaking every one. And then there would be occasions that you would just follow the single lane, letting people overtake you but would not lose your pace and just go at your constant average speed, unbothered and unfettered. That’s what you are. Moody should be the word describing it, but I guess its more than that. Its more about exercising the freedom of your choice. And you want every thing on your whims and fancies. And you are so unchained from every single human sentiment and ego that there would be times when you would be haughty to exercise your freedom and then there are those dead moments when you would be so free to relinquish your dreams and just move on like a dead man because probably you’d have nothing better to do, but to let go of them and make it all a dream in itself. That’s what you’d like- absolute freedom of thought- may be to the extent of day-dreaming and you would probably fight an argument that’s what’s bloody wrong in day dreaming if that keeps you happy. And you probably will repent for having even the least of that idea, because you know there is nothing like an absolute freedom and happiness. That’s the whole fuck up. You never want to repent on any thing coz there is nothing to regret upon in this world. And yet you would repent on every action of yours which turned out futile. You know the very fact that Johnny could swing the magic wand and would have changed every thing if he would have focus fixed for a little while, and you regret that he did not do it.

Johnny would believe in himself and yet will not put faith in his beliefs, for they seem to be so stupid. And Johnny would know himself, Just if ..and that’s the killing IF.

And Johnny wants to preserve the child within. Johnny loves all the individuals who love peace. Johnny immensely loves his life. Jo And the only the thing that Johnny hates is the world. And he has to live in it. :D…. And all you could do is turn the comment of life into a blog !!! …

If I may let my analytical mind do the analysis. I’ll tell you what Johnny s are, draw the matrix. Column C1, Cµ, R1 and Rµ, those are the rows and columns which define you, all the extremes and the boundaries, and within all that is what you see is abstract which indeed is reality. Strike a fucking balance in madness bro:D

P.S : I think, the bandwagon has not passed. I guess theres no point in thinking bout that..coz I think its passed. You could do so much. Look around when you are sane. Look at misery and apathy, you have found in with rickshaw wallas, at jhupps, with bhairav singh, or is it life that you saw ? - its all fun man. We will find a resolve soon. Its just a matter when we can dare to have that first step, over come in the resistance and fears within and reach forth, high. up. blooming and shinning and touch light. Touch the light of abstractness or abstract light whatever. We all indeed have so much choice to break loose and leave in the lost paradise, on The beach.

And I would love to watch you dare that first step…. :D..Set and example.

…………May be I concur.