Writers..

When I say " writers ", I don't mean to address Jhumpa lahiri, Agatha Christie, Salman Rushdie, You, Your geeky friend or his thoughtful girlfriend's kid brother. What I am talkin 'bout is " ME ".
I am not one. I am multi. I am not single. I am many ( Yet committed ). I am not just me. I am us.
I am not expecting, No-NO ! I am just accepting. I am not a moon. I am stars. I am not a nose. I am eyes ( and I don't mean ears, legs etc. but EYES ). I am not a sea. I am channels. I am not an integer. I am words. I am not a writer. I am " Writers as well as Writer's ".

Being one/s, I think we have the leverage of inflictin upon poor-lesser mortals, unbearable agony. We'd think random nuisance at 3: 40 AM, Turn on our mad-man ( Computer ) and start typin. We type cuz we have this thought that we've evolved from the huntin-gatherin phase and we are soon gonna be there again. So while we have the mad man available at our beck and call, We'd torture him till our return to Stone age ( I know, while readin all this you look at me as some great writer of Proto history but its khay by me ).

I have always met my writer past midnight. No matter how much I howl, scream and call for it in the daytime, It won't appear. And when I try to sleep it pulls my quilt and drags me to the mad man ( Pimp-my-WRITEr ). At times they are many. They put forth different thoughts and I am the one who's suppose to be jottin them down. The next day when I read my post, I can barely make sense of what I've written, but its only past midnight when the connotation of each symbol floats in the air and tickles my brain.

I feel lucky at times that I've been blessed with this idiosyncracy. Atleast I can write whatever and calm down. Cuz when distress befalls, We all become nothin but clowns in the hands of no strings, no matter how sophisticated we think we are. We all are silent sufferers. We'll die but confide. We'll break down but open up. We'd be all poised but let loose. We'll not smile but let a few tears out. And then I ask them silently why ? Why resident evils, why won't you ? But its become a long chain of no answers now. And my environment ma'am teaches me not to disturb a food chain. Why'd I disturb their food chain when it doesn't hurt them while they eat what they eat ?

* Yawns * I am so done with this. See, I wrote and de-stressed. I din't smoke a couple o smokes and neither did I swig down a few shots. But then m not even campaignin for " AA " ( hahaha ).

Holll-a !

Much has changed ever since I last filled in here.. At times you feel so low and look around for that stress buster when you completely rule out writing knowin its the only way to sanity and sanctity.
I do the same.. rather I'd been doin the same for past couple of months. I am back though and I am back for good. I'll try and keep it regular now.

January was when I last posted something here. Its end of November and my soul has woken up again. It was cold the last time I felt the keyboard tapping underneath my reckless finger-touch, I sense that its cold even today, or perhaps colder. I've caught cold too. I sneeze with all my might. I sleep with my mouth open and trust me its gross !! I wake up in the middle of nights, restless, only to drink some water and check the alarm clock. My cold has invited cough too. They both play with my nose and throat and irk me to death. Well, We shall leave it there.

Okay, to begin with Feb, Its the month of LOVE as well as my birthday ! So I celebrated both..!
March : I was sloggin to get the marks required ! Though I end up doin a course I never dreamt of gettin stuck onto !
April : I was hangin out with love and lovers every-possible-where !
May : I went back to my folks and put on weight ! They satiate my appetite.
June : I enrolled in a gym only to avoid the trainer after 3 days of regularity. That's a different story when he caught me with a large can of Irish coffee with whipped cream and Vanilla scoop floatin on its face, in my hands. No doubt he was happy to see me that way ! ( Pun intented ).
July : I was runnin all around Delhi, unknowingly explorin places which I otherwise never would have known, with an interest of collectin all the information bout colleges as well as fillin up all them forms.
August : I asked my folks for extra money since I wanted new clothes for college. My dorky friends ate up all the paper and I till date wear the same old clothes ! Friends can be a big-time curse I tell you !
September : " Aunt Jennifer's Tigers " was about to evacuate my mind when I fell in ***** ! We both are happy. Unhappy with situations, yet happily together.
October : I celebrate Diwali with my so called extended family. Quite a different feelin it is. I paint the floors with nursery designs. Take up the post of a Brahmin girl while monitorin the pooja which I never realized I was, due to my devotion and dedication towards non-vegetarian food. I take strolls in the calm house.. Wanderin from one room to another lookin for HIM when he's gone. I can be quite poetic and filmy on the name of reality ! I sob lookin at the only pet which I am not very fond of. But I think its HIM and his memories that connect !
November : I go through mental turbulence, over-analytical frame of mind and whims ! I miss him so much that I start studyin history !!!!! I even sit with mateys I thought were kiddish. The whole month tests my composure and patience and then on Nov. 23 I finally explode ! I repent, I calm down ! I am back and I am back for good.

Of late, all us friends have been bunkin the class tests with regular repetition ! Mam's got so furious that she even challenges us now, if we have the guts to disappear this time ! Well, I am ahsamed to declare THIS TIME the test is TOMORROW when I am more interested in typin random poop here. Have called up couple of losers from my batch who are bunkin it yet again. But I am appearin for it. I am also gonna tell ma'am that I was up until late last night since I was studyin ! :-)

THE SON OF THE ARMADA

Like a cat steals on one lazy winter morning,
She drops few tears in the same brewery.
The lion prowls out of the bubble;
The son of the armada, Standing in a queue in the quay.

Her ashen face narrates myriad folklores;
Of a vagrant cub, Placid on the fiercer shores.
Uxorious never the brave ones are
But his pounding heart lays ajar;
The beauty of today's withering rose
Preserved in his mind, Secured in repose
A little drop cascades his querelous leer
And freezes off with just one fear :

SHOULD THE ROSE DIE WITH DISBELIEF BEFORE I GO LOVE IT AGAIN ?!?!?