I Hate Myself

All my friends think I am a pretend-asshole. I am not…I really am an asshole. I am so glad I have so few friends to worry about. I mean imagine a horde of a million, even a hundred, annihilating me for being an insensitive pretentious bastard (which I happen to be, minus the pretentious part).

First off, I’d like to tell everyone I’ve ever come across in this life, that I am me not by choice but by make. I didn’t choose anything for myself other than the jeans I wear and the faded t-shirts that I sheath my shoulders with. I didn’t choose this life, believe me!

Secondly, I never did go around trying to make friends with anyone. Well, if u liked me and if I could tolerate you, it was fine. But if u didn’t like me and I didn’t care for your company, you should have walked away then and there. It would have been best for both of us. You would have been spared this brutally truthful confession and I would have been spared the embarrassment I’ve had to fake.

Believe me, you are a nice person. Just not for me. Damn! I feel guilty now, which I simply loath. Wait a minute, What am I saying? I feel for you? Yuck! No, I mean I feel sorry for you for knowing me. Yeah, that’s more like it. You poor, imbecile. How hard it must have been, to try and learn to like a recluse creature like me. I feel sorry you put your trust in me.

Thanks to you, I am straying from the point that I was intending to make. A point I would have loved to convey in a line, but had to write so much to get to. Why? Because of you!

Shit! Does that mean I love you? Obviously not. You don’t have the recklessness of an Anz or the authority of a Maa. You definitely lack the defiance of a Sam or the adventurousness of a Koks. How can I love you then? No, I can’t even like you, to be precise.

Ok…so why am I talking to you? A nobody? Hmmm. I guess it’s because there’s no Anz or Maa or Sam or Koks to talk to. Anz, I don’t talk too often to because I don’t want him to know my weaknesses. Maa, she’ll ridicule me to oblivion with a barrage of insults (which by the way are well deserved), Sam, the less said about that situation the better (if ignorance is really bliss), and Koks, how can you expect a happy fairy to even concur that bad things do happen in this world?

Yeah it’s a sad situation. I am talking to myself and pretending that the world is listening to me. Hmmm. Did I say pretend? Yeah, it seems I did. Such a lovely word isn’t it? Pretend. And such a truthful word even. It’s something anyone can do without rehearsal. Once you’ve done it, you’re a master of the art. I know I am.

That brings me back to where I started, I hate myself. Why? Because I survive. How? By pretending. To be happy, to be loved, to be needed, to be indispensible, to be popular, to be fashionable, to be so many other things that I really am not. Why? Because I am pretending to be human. And I am really finding it fruitless and unrewarding.

Tell me how to escape this. I didn’t choose to be here, neither will I ever choose to leave by my doing. So, if I can’t do it myself, and if I can’t live with myself, what do I do?

Unglued

An old poem of mine. thought if I was't writing new stuff, I'd atleast post some of my old scribbles.

Born in one piece
To be shattered amiss
Again and again
The abuse repeats
One single tube
Of icky stuff
Persistence limited
Till the last sticky glob
Endurance unshaken
To last the night
Bed wet again
Eyes red shot throughout
A well trodden path
A last promise still fresh
But again and again
The path seduces
Back on the track
To be trodden upon again
All that knowledge
All that was learnt
Forgotten in a wink
An inviting smile
A familiar discomfort
Building up warmth
A shorter span than before
Back on the street
Dazed at the result
Unwilling to accept
Shattered again
For the nth time
Pieces now so small
It will take time
There’s still some glue left
Though the tube’s growing thin
This time it will hold
No more straying bold
Another pretty face
Another angelic smile
Back in the queue
Waiting familiar fate
Another fling shorter than last
Broken at the end
Even worse than the last
Shattered again now
Broken several times over
Pieces now too small
But managed to gather
Reached for the tube
The one with the glue
Never realized before
But now know it’s true
A limit is inevitable
The end has been reached
No further lay roads
Only barren fields
Took for granted
This heart for too long
Now in shambles
No more glue to fasten

Silly-Con Valley of India

This is Bang bang bang Bangalore?

Due to unforeseen circumstances, I am forced to cancel my confirmed ticket on Brindavan express. So what do I do? Pick an alternative. It’s Thursday afternoon. And it’s the 14th of August. No hopes of a bus or train ticket falling into my lap, so I choose the expensive way out. A flight ticket to Chennai. Expensive, but worth it. All I need to do now is get myself to the airport. Easy. That’s what I think, but that’s when it starts to pour cats and dogs. No, actually it’s pouring elephants and hyenas.

The cab that was due to pick me up at 8.00 pm is far behind schedule. So I take matters into my own hands (or legs to be more appropriate) and brave the rains. It’s taken me a trek of 2.6 kms in a torrent to realize that I’ve made a mistake. This is Bangalore. Rickshaws don’t do your bidding, they do YOU.

Finally by 8.50 pm. I’ve managed to coax a cab to take me to the airport. By now the city is chaotic. The unforgiving rain (thank you god), and the unyielding gutters have decided to sink the city. I am soaked, I stink, and I am just an hour and half away from the flight that will deliver me from this trench.

The cab guy assures me that I will make it. Energized by his enthusiatic mumble, I give in. I stop glancing at my watch, I literally give up praying. I am convinced I will make it. I get there 2 minutes too late. Thanks to a suddenly duty conscious police department that decides to stall my cab for a routine check that costs me 10 minutes. And the drug buster at the check-in entrance who's whacky intrument insists i am carrying coke. After letting him go through all the contents in my bag, he let's me go. I rush to the check-in counter only to be told the flight is already set for take off, so no chance of me getting on. They are courteous enough to offer me a seat in the next flight. I succumb.

Now remember, this is Devanahalli, a place that’s 2 hours away (in decent traffic conditions) from where I stay. I’ve missed my 10.25 pm flight by 2 minutes and the next flight is at 9.50 am. I decide to go home. But wait. I am told I can’t leave the airport unless I fly out (what kind of a rule is that?). I spend the next 13 hours in the airport trying my best not to doze off. The only help I have is coffee. Courtesy Café Coffee Day. Oh! I almost forgot. The rain has laid my cell phone to rest. It got drenched and conked by the time I got into the cab, so by now I have absolutely no means of communication to the outside world. Like everyone else Iam completely dependent on my cell phone. I don't write down numbers anywhere. I don't even have my house number memorised. So what do i do? I manage to find an old gentleman, kind enough to let me insert my sim in his instrument for a few minutes. Thanks to him i retreived my home number from a message sent earlier. Now I can use the phone booths and inform home of the calamity that has struck. I spot 2 red PCO phones. But the trouble is they need to be fed 1 Rupee coins to work. I am shocked, in the age of web 2.0, the International airport has no means of communication other than a coin fed public phone? I mean, come on, who the hell carries 1 Rupee coins anymore? Anyways I try my luck with the Café for coins and thankfully they had a few. A very few mind you because their prices are all multiples of five. Armed with 5 coins, I make my way to the phone and make the call home. I have to rush through the details of my forced change in travel plans because the machine's gobbling a coin every 10 seconds. Well, atleast I am a bit relieved after the call. I settle into a chair and survey my surroundings. My home for the next 13 hours. I can't believe I am waiting 13 hours for a flight that lasts 40 minutes. I silently laugh at the irony of it.

So here I am, trapped in a glass enclosure with Arabs, Americans and I don’t know who else. No food, no entertainment, no escape. I am feeling a bit like Tom Hanks, but no Catherine Zeta Jones around though.

I am not the only one that’s being tortured by an undeniably ill functioning Bangalore city. I speak for all in my shoes. This city has gone to the dogs. What was the need to move the airport so far away from the city? Why do rains always leave the city in havoc? Why aren’t auto rickshaws being regulated by the transport department?

The Ever Growing Post Of My Favorite & Spontaneous Quotes III

Hello folks...here's the third installment of the My Favorite & Spontaneous Quotes. Hope you like it. Cheers.

“A troubled mind has more reasons to think than a gleeful one.” – Bubbasamuel

“Africa was what we inherited from God, America is what we did to it.” – Bubbasamuel

“Remember, the lips that are kissing your ass are hiding teeth behind them.” – Bubbasamuel

“If you thought trying to remember someone was a toughie, give forgetting a shot.” – Bubbasamuel

“If I could, I’d be the first person to put a boot up my own ass. I am so dumb, so juvenile to have pushed away the only person who loved me. And for what? For being sane.” - Bubbasamuel

“Unlike salamanders we can’t grow back what we lose, we just learn to live without it that’s all.” – Bubbasamuel

"Sometimes a crisis situation makes your mind feel like the grey fuzzy no reception display on television." – Bubbasamuel

"You want to put an end to terrorism? Start by shooting down the bastards who burn up buses and break shop windows at the drop of a hat." – Bubbasamuel

“Most of us go on with our dull lives because we're too brave to give up, too chicken to commit suicide and too broke to hire a hit man to do the job for us.” – Bubbasamuel

“Tear my heart out, slow roast me over a fire, pull off my eyebrows strand by strand, push pins though my fingernails….do anything to me, anything but a monday.” - Bubbasamuel